


Two Funerals and a Wedding

by shuhannon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, F/M, Grief Bang, Grief/Mourning, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Minor Character Death, Redeemed Ben Solo, Rey Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuhannon/pseuds/shuhannon
Summary: "A last ditch attempt to try and shed her old skin as she began a new life. A life without him. Poe had wanted her to join Tindr. Finn had wanted her to see a therapist. Instead Rose took Rey to a salon. It had felt good, in the moment. Now Rey felt young. Naive and immature. Because cutting off some dead ends would instantly cure her of a relationship that had crashed and burned over two years ago."___After breaking up, Rey and Ben continue to cross paths over the course of three years, at two funerals and one wedding.





	1. The First Funeral

“You cut your hair.”

 

It was a statement, not a question. Instantly Rey’s fingers moved to toy the ends of her hair, which had been cut a few months ago, and she had surprisingly maintained the shorter style. The hair that had once gone down to her shoulder blades now barely dusted her collar bone.

 

“I needed a change.” Her voice was firm and her pitch even. Her words were accompanied by what Rey hoped looked like a nonchalant shrug. She wanted to appear unaffected by his sudden appearance. She wanted to look casual. Wanted to seem like her heart wasn’t threatening to burst out of her chest.

 

He responded in a typical Ben fashion; a scoff and a sarcastic tone. “Change. Right.”

 

Rey felt her cheeks begin to flush. It had been a change. A last ditch attempt to try and shed her old skin as she began a new life. A life without him. Poe had wanted her to join Tinder. Finn had wanted her to see a therapist. Instead Rose took Rey to a salon. It had felt good, in the moment. Now Rey felt young. Naive and immature. Because cutting off some dead ends would instantly cure her of a relationship that had crashed and burned two years ago.

 

She opened her mouth to speak, but ended up just pressing her lips together into a tight line. Rey forced herself to swallow down her comebacks and smart ass remarks. _You were the one to go down this path. You were the one who made me leave._ She urged the excuses to just go away. After all, how would arguing make a difference? It hadn’t before. It never did. _You’re the one who had changed._

 

Instead, Rey forced herself to focus on something else. Anything else really. Ben looked the same. Same black clothes. Same moody lips that always seemed to be curled into a pout. Same furrowed, serious brow. Same distinguished features, ones that fell more into the ‘classical’ category, rather than just ‘pretty’. His entire body looked as if it was shaped from marble instead of flesh. And the same brown eyes that were now trying their best to look distant; cold, and calculating.

 

This wasn’t her Ben.

 

“Your hair’s longer.” Hair seemed like a common ground; a safe topic. Their hair, oddly enough, was almost the same length. But where Rey’s hung down straight, Ben’s was layered and wavy, not one strand ending in the same spot as another.

 

He replied with nothing but a look. His lips were pursed and he continued to look at her, as if he was waiting. Waiting but for what? Rey wanted to shout at him. She wanted to shake him and try to make sense of it all. She also wanted to just walk away. Wanted to flippantly toss her hair in his face, and leave the room, letting him be the one to replay the scene in his mind over and over, wondering what had happened two years ago, and how they had ended up standing on opposite sides of the fractured ground.

 

In the end, she was unable to do any of that. Instead Rey just looked around the room, taking in the shelves of books and the desk covered in papers. A room she had been in a hundred times. A room that now felt like it belonged in a museum. That it needed to become a relic to be treasured and preserved.

 

“Why are you here?” Her voice wasn’t as steady as she would of liked. It wavered, not a lot, but enough that she immediately knew he would pick up on it. Two years might have passed, their hair might have changed, but Rey still felt confident that she knew Ben like the back of her hand. And in return, Ben knew her just as well, if not better. Because where Ben was made of cold marble; was cut off from any emotion that wasn’t anger, Rey was more of an open book written in a language that was Ben’s specialty. All she had to do was blink and grit her teeth, and it would be as if he had a direct look into her mind.

 

Ben blinked back at her. Once, and then twice. Immediately his expression froze. He looked as if he had been unexpectedly dosed with ice cold water, or abruptly slapped.

 

“He was my uncle.”

 

Now it was her turn to snort. The noise slipped out, and instantly Rey felt a twinge of guilt. Because Ben was right. Luke had been his uncle. Had been his family. His bloodline. Luke might of been the last Skywalker by name and name alone, but the legacy carried on. It was survived by his twin sister and her son. Estranged son. A son who hadn’t been around even once Luke got sick. Ben.

 

“You hadn’t spoken to him in years. Even when we were together you still-”

 

“I still what?”

 

“You still fought with him! You avoided him! You never made time for him!” Her chest began to swell with anger and frustration. Rey didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to fight with Ben. Didn’t want to yell. God, why did she only feel like this around him? How did he have the power to make her spiral with a single look. It was as if all Ben had to do was snap his fingers, and Rey would be reeling; would be feeling out of control of her own voice, her own emotions and her own body. Suddenly Rey became a puppet, with Ben holding the strings. She tried to just push things aside; tried to ignore her hands beginning to shake and the back of her neck growing hot.

 

“You haven’t seem him in ages, Ben. So excuse me if I don’t buy the whole mourning nephew routine.”

 

Ben was shaking his head and turned away from her, as he began to pace across the wooden floor boards with long strides. She noticed the way his body began to tense up. The way his black suit jacket started to stretch across the broad expanse of his back as he turned away. She watched the way his fingers curled into fists, only to promptly uncurl and flex. This Ben, she was more familiar with. Angry Ben. Ben who was trying and always failing to keep his temper in control and his emotions in check.

  
She braced herself, waiting for the backlash, but it didn’t come.

 

So she took a step towards him. Rey had to keep pushing at him. She couldn’t just back down when the storm was just beginning to brew. It was her Achilles heel.

 

“Leia called you when he got sick. I know she did. I overheard her, more than once. She left message after message with you. Even broke down and called you at your stupid work, left word with your secretary. You didn’t want to be here for Luke? Fine. But you could have at least been here for her.”

  
Rey felt like she was poking a sleeping bear. It was both terrifying and also giving her a rush of adrenaline. Because so far, Ben was reigning it in. He was trying to ignore her, or not let her words effect him. She watched, her eyes fixated on his tower of a form. How could she forget how _big_ he was. Built all tall and broad, with large hands, like the dictionary definition of the original man.

 

She knew she should stop. Rey knew the right thing to do would be to walk out of Luke’s old office and back to the wake. It would be responsible; the mature thing to do. She should leave the boyfriend who broke up with her two fucking years ago to make his amends, or pay his respects or whatever the hell he was doing here.

 

But old habits died hard. As much as Ben pushed her, Rey had always pushed right back. Now was her chance to say things. Now was her chance to get any and everything off of her chest. To make up for that night when she had finally left without a word, unable to argue or fight any more.

 

So Rey carried on.

 

“You walked out on your family. You _hurt_ them. Do you know how hard this was on Luke? On your mom? You cut all ties with any and everyone. So no, you lost those rights to just show up out of fuck knows where to ‘pay your respects’. You forfeited all of that when you left them for-”

 

“Left _you_ you mean.”

 

Her face was burning and flushed as his words cut through her like a hot knife into a stick of cold butter. Now Ben had been the one to poke the sleeping bear. He had struck a nerve.

 

Instantly her feet were carrying her across the room, trying to insert her body into Ben’s line of sight; forcing him to look at her, to deal with her. To deal with _this._

 

“No. _No_. I mean your family, Luke and your mom. Leia was always there for you Ben. Even after all the shit that happened with Snoke, she still tried. And the _one_ time she needed you to be there for her, what? You were too busy with work? Out of the country? Didn’t get the memo or just forgot to call her back?” Her voice was growing in volume. The fact that there were fifty people in the room next door, all here for to eat and mourn, was essentially forgotten. Rey was seeing red. The dam had broken and word after word just kept rushing out of her mouth.

 

“What was your excuse this time, Ben? You always have a good one. Whose fault is it? It can’t be yours. It never is. Whose truly to blame? Leia? Han? Or maybe Luke. It is his funeral after all, so why not shove the entire blame onto your dead uncle. Really, I’m sure he would be honored.”

 

Now it was Ben’s turn to get mad. The sleeping bear had woken, and right away Rey knew she had gone too far. His jaw was set, his head turned to the side and his eyes were narrowed, but still Ben refused to look at her; refused to meet his angry gaze with her own. Rey had struck a chord. She was pushing on an old wound. One that had become covered with time, but if you pressed just the right spot with just the right pressure then he would blow.

 

“Why do you even care if I’m here? Fuck, I wasn’t even in the house for two damn minutes before you were dragging me away to some isolated corner.”

 

“Because everyone was just standing there, staring at you like you showed up with two heads!” She countered back, tilting her chin up, her arms folded and coming to rest right underneath her breasts. “Because your mom looked like she had seen a ghost. And because Poe was ready to haul you outside to kick your ass, especially if Finn and Kay hadn’t been there to hold him back. Because this isn’t supposed to be about you. You’re not the fucking prodigal son returning, Ben!”

 

He let out a growl, throwing his hands up in frustration. “What do you even want from me, Rey?! You want me to be here for Leia, but when I show up then it’s what? Too little too late?! Not enough!? Which one is it? Am I supposed to be here for my mother or not?”

 

“You weren’t supposed to leave in the first place!”

 

The words came out of her mouth before her brain could catch up to what she had said. Her pulse was racing. The room suddenly felt hot, and her words continued to just hang in the air, fresh and exposed. And he was just _standing_ there, not moving, not saying a word. It all suddenly became too much. It all was just too fucking _much_.

 

So the reality of everything that had happened ever since Luke got sick came crashing down. Rey hadn’t had more than two or three hours of consecutive sleep in the past week, and the last person she had expected to show up at the funeral of her mentor and teacher had been the man that had completely broken her heart.

 

A lump was forming in her throat, but Rey stubbornly swallowed, hoping to force it back down. She was _not_ going to cry. She was not going to give _him_ the satisfaction of making her cry. After all, it hadn’t made a difference the last time they had been in a room shouting at one another. The tears hadn’t made Ben stay. It had instead made her feel weak; made her feel vulnerable and so terribly alone. Rey was so tired of feeling alone.

 

A moment passed. A beat of quiet, and then two. And then three.

“You were supposed to come with me.” Ben finally broke the silence. His voice sounded hoarse, and instantly Rey’s eyes were drawn to his. He looked lost. He looked tired. His skin was pale, which made the dark shadows underneath his eyes somehow seem darker, more severe. He looked about as a good as she felt, and for a moment all Rey wanted to do was close the distance between them; to take his hand, or wrap her arms around his torso and press her face into his chest. What she wouldn’t give to just breath in his scent; to see if he smelled the same all these years later.

 

Instead, he bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to focus the ache of the soft flesh sandwiched between her teeth and keep her feet firmly rooted in their spot. She wouldn’t move. She wouldn’t go to him.

 

“You knew I could never do that.” Rey was shaking her head, trying to just get the words out. “How could I? I can’t just leave behind Finn, and Poe and Rose- I couldn’t abandon Leia and- and Luke.”

 

What she wanted to say was, _how could you?_

 

“We could of built our own publishing firm with the money we earned working for First Order. Could of started something of our own.”

 

“Ben-”

 

“We could of let the past die. Together, Rey, we could of really made a difference.”

 

Again all she could do was shake her head. Tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eye, and her hand hastily began to wipe them way, hoping that he wouldn’t see but at the same time knowing that he would. “We are not doing this.” Her words wavered but her tone was unwavering. Moving to take a small step back, her body instinctively began to turn from him, trying to shut him out. Rey never should of come in here. She shouldn’t of told Finn that she would take care of this. She shouldn’t be alone here with him now. “We are not having the same argument again three years later. Time hasn’t changed my mind. The end result is going to be the same.”

 

“It could be different. If you would just stop being so damn stubborn. What have _they_ -” He gestured an arm towards the closed door the library; towards the muffled sound of polite small talk just on the other side of the wall. “What have they ever done for you?! They can’t give you anything, Rey. There’s no future with them. You’re too smart, Rey. You’re too good at your job. If you would just cut your ties- They’re holding you back.”

 

It was dejavu. Despite her protests, the past was repeating itself. They were now having the same argument. Instead of standing in the middle of the apartment they had shared, a place where Rey had felt safe and had once called home, they were in the house that Luke and Leia had been raised in; had lived in again since Han had died. The house where Ben had spent summers. The Skywalker country home, that Luke had fixed up before moving in when he had retired early all those years ago.

 

But Rey wasn’t the same girl she had been back then. She had been barely twenty-two, fresh from college with an English degree. A girl who just wanted to help people get published, and maybe even write a book of her own some day. With a fresh face full of freckles and a letter of recommendation from her favorite professor, Rey had begun her career at Resistance, a small publishing house that prided itself on publications that could make a difference; on taking chances on the unknown author. It was going to be with the help of Resistance, that through books, Rey was going to change the world.

 

Now, almost three years later she was still there, having worked her way up from proof reader to editor. But the work was hard. Her vision of making a difference had begun to fade. The shine and excitement had worn off.

 

And with more responsibility came a bigger workload. The Resistance was barely staying afloat with all the competition from larger publishing houses. Budget cuts meant lay offs, meaning Rey was doing the work of three editors for barely the pay of one. She slept at her desk at least twice a week. She ate all three meals seated behind her computer. And when her yearly review came around, Rey didn’t even think about asking for a raise. How could she? As long as she was making just enough to cover rent and her basic bills, and the excruciating student loans that had accumulated once scholarships and financial aid had run out, it was fine. Rey could survive. She had lived off of less before. It was just temporary. Things would get better.

 

But she was tired. Fuck, she was so tired. And her spare time the past few months had been spent catching the train out to the countryside to see Luke and help Leia. Rose had made a schedule. They were supposed to alternate weekends; herself, Rey, Poe and Finn.

 

Still, despite the color coordinated agenda, things came up. Sometimes Finn had to switch a weekend with Rey due to the bartender gig he had taken on, just to help with his own cost of living. And Poe was taking on more responsibility at Resistance, temporarily taking on Leia’s role of editor-in-chief and trying to keep things smooth in her absence. He was trying to keep the sinking ship afloat. And Rose really did try. But her sister was going to be in town for the first time in months, but she would do the next weekend, she promised, and she still always made sure groceries were delivered during the week all with Luke’s ever changing favorite foods.

 

Rey had nothing else. Rey had no one else. She had work. She had Luke and she had Leia.

 

And in the end it hadn’t even mattered. In the end, she hadn’t been there when her favorite English Lit professor had taken his last breath. She had been stuck back in the city, in a subway car that had lost power and wouldn’t get the news for another three hours, when she would finally get off at the next stop and the waves of text messages and missed calls came through.

 

But Ben could have been there. Ben could of lightened the load. Ben could have helped Leia; could of helped Luke. He could of helped Rey.

 

“You know when we first started to date, everyone told me it was a bad idea.” Her eyes dropped down to the floor boards. This house had always been old and rickety; it’s bones creaked despite the updates and renovations. Luke had liked the noisy floors. He said that it gave the house character and made it easy to tell who was where. Walking slowly, Rey moved towards the desk. It hadn’t been touched in weeks, and a thin layer of dust had settled on all the papers and books; on the keyboard that belonged to an old Mac that barely turned on. This had been Luke’s place. His private office. His sanctuary. It had been where he used to write.

 

“Finn told me to be careful.” A dry laugh slipped from her lips, as Rey tilted her head back, her gaze not landing on any one particular spot and most certainly avoiding Ben. “I wasn’t even done getting ready for our first date, and Finn was standing in the doorway of the bathroom with plenty of warnings. ‘Watch out for him, peanut,’ he said.”

 

Pursing her lips, Rey looked over at Ben. “Do you know why?”

 

Ben didn’t answer. She expected a sarcastic remark. She expected some comment about Finn being an asshole. Rey got nothing. So she continued on.

 

“Because Finn knew you would do what it takes to survive. Even if it meant hurting those you loved.”

 

Resistance was going downhill. Everyone had tunnel vision. Everyone was turning a blind eye. Resistance had been around since the seventies, started by Leia and fueled by the books Luke had written, the widely popular Son of Suns trilogy. And it had thrived for so long, nearly forty years.

 

But Ben had seen the signs. Ben had done the math. There was more red in the ledger than green. Ben knew it would take a miracle for Resistance to stay afloat. And instead of trying to help, he jumped ship.

 

His third book with First Order Publishing was due out in the fall. A multi-million dollar contract had been signed, for a seven book series, not to mention the deal with HBO to create a television show where the first two seasons were already guaranteed. Or at least that’s what the Buzzfeed article that Rey had ‘stumbled’ upon was reporting.

 

Ben could of published with Resistance. Could of helped out his family and let his family help him. After all, it was his family he was writing about. His grandfather. His grandmother. His parents. Luke. It was their stories he was telling, albeit a very biased version which had taken a lot of liberties. But still, he could of easily told that story at Resistance. Maybe that would have been enough to give them the boost they so terribly needed so they could all just take a breath; could relax for just a moment.

 

Poe had told Leia to sue. He hadn’t thought it was very funny when Leia instead had just laughed. Because a lawsuit was the last thing Resistance needed. There was already so much on their plates. And Rey knew, despite the fact that Leia never said it, never even hinted about; she hoped one day her son would just come back. Hope was what Resistance had been founded upon. At the time, it had only been hope that it was living off of. Now, Rey wasn’t sure if there was any hope left.

 

“I couldn’t stay there, Rey. You know that. Not after-” Ben let out a breath, reaching a hand up, his fingers shaking slightly as they raked through his dark hair. “I needed to be on my own. If I wanted to tell Anakin Skywalker’s story the neutral way, the _right_ way, I needed to do it away from my family.”

 

“He was a murderer, Ben. He ended up murdering people, families, a _kid_ died, Ben! And then he fled the country like a coward. How many ways can you spin that? How can you tell that story unbiased?”

 

“You don’t understand. You couldn’t. You never had-” Abruptly Ben’s words stopped. He had crossed a line, and the tension that suddenly filled the air was thick and heavy.

 

“Say it.” Even Rey was surprised how deadly calm the sound of her voice was. Ben didn’t respond. He just stood there, looking like he wanted to say more and also nothing at all. So Rey said it for him.

 

“Because I don’t have a family. I never had a family.”

 

“Rey, no-” The guilt flashed across his features, and Rey felt a lurch in her stomach. He was the only one she had really told about her childhood. About how she never knew her parents. How her earliest memories had been just bouncing between foster homes. About how some were betters and some had been terrible. How she had never felt like she truly had belonged, until she had met him.

 

“I might never know who my parents are, but you know what, Ben? At least I’m not the one who deserted them when I was the one who could pick up the pieces and start putting it back together.”

 

The lump was threatening to grow in her throat, and she could feel the tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. This time, Rey didn’t care. She would let them fall. Crying didn’t make her weak. Abandoning those who needed you, did.

 

“I didn’t want to leave _you_.” Ben took a step towards her, his hand momentarily outstretched towards her before he immediately dropped it back down to his side. “I never wanted to leave you, Rey. You’re the one who made that choice. You’re the one that went out for a walk and just never fucking came back.”

 

He took a breath, and for once Rey didn’t interrupt him. Because he was right. They had fought. She had cried. Ben had slammed a door and punched a hole into the wall. And then Rey had left. Had gone for a walk. Had let herself wander around city for a couple hours before her feet had simply led her to Finn’s doorstep. And then Rey just never went back. Poe and Finn and Rose, they had been the one’s to go to the apartment; to get her things and pack her bags. Ben’s actions had set the course, but he was right. Rey in the end had been the one to walk away.

 

“Luke and Leia are my family. But Anakin is too. And yes, he did bad, terrible things. But there was also good in him too, Rey. Reading his journals and finding out more about him. We’re the same, him and I. We’re cut from the same fucking cloth. We feel too much. The good, the bad, everything, and getting inside his head helped me. Don’t you get that? He helped me, and all everyone thinks of him as a terrible monster. Don’t you understand how I need to at least- I need to at least show a different side to the story?”

 

His voice was cracking now with emotion and Rey couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead she watched his hands move as he talked. He was bent over slightly, his back slightly hunched as he kept trying to close the space between them. Ben was barely a foot away now, and Rey found herself rooted to the spot.

 

He carried on, shaking his head as he folded his arms under his chest, one hand moving to grip his bicep tightly, as if Ben was trying to center himself; trying to find a way to keep himself grounded. “They never would of let me tell the story, not in this way. And I needed to do that Rey. You have to understand, I just- I needed to do this. For me.”

 

“You mean for your legacy.”

 

“No, Rey. Not me. For _him_.”

 

“No Ben. For you. You’ve always been obsessed with your fucking legacy. Of how people perceive you. About what you’re going to leave behind. You’re another Icarus, flying too close to the sun. You can’t see how much this is hurting you, how much it’s _transformed_ you. You’re not the same anymore, Ben. They’re changing you. You can’t see what you’re leaving behind. How you’re burning everything around you.”

 

He just kept shaking his head. He kept repeating ‘no’, over and over, the word muttered under his breath as if she wasn’t _listening_ to him, as if she wasn’t understanding what Ben was trying to say.

 

But Rey knew it all. She had heard this speech before. She had heard this spin and spiel.

 

“You are!” She was shouting now, pointing an accusing finger at him, poking him once square in the chest. “You are, Ben. All you worry about is the legacy of a grandfather you never met, and you are so- are so _blinded_ by it, that you’re not even seeing what’s standing right in front of your fucking face.”

 

“I see you.” His words came out in a growl, his fingers curling around Rey’s outstretched hand. His grip was hard but not enough that it hurt. It was just enough pressure that caused Rey to freeze. Because the moment his skin touched hers, Rey felt it. A buzz. An electric shock. It was as if her skin was on fire just by the tiniest contact. But this only happened with him. It had only ever happened with him.

 

And it sent Rey into silence. She stood frozen, looking down as his hand moved to take hers, their fingers slowly becoming entwined. Rey just couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think. One touch from Ben and she was rendered utterly helpless, something that made her angry; made her feel weak. But yet Rey continued to stand there, unable to pull her hand away from his. God, it had been so long.

 

“I’ve always seen you Rey.” Ben’s voice was a low rumble, something that seemed to start low in his throat. They weren’t yelling anymore. No, instead a hush had fallen over the room, like any noise above a whisper would break them of this spell.

 

He was so closed now. His body was curled towards hers, as if he was trying to protect her; trying to block out all the bad. His face was mere inches from Rey’s. She could see the spattering of moles sprinkled across his face; could see the tiny ring of soft, chocolate brown that outlined his pupils. And his mouth- he was close enough to kiss. Rey wanted to slap herself for falling again so quickly and easily. Ben didn’t even have to try, and her gaze was already dropping to his mouth, wondering if he still tasted the same; wondering if she would feel the same spark if only their lips were to touch. And she found herself leaning towards him; being drawn in, like a current that was taking her out to sea. But instead of fighting against it, Rey just let it happen. She allowed him to lure her back in.

 

But the moment when she was _so close_ , the second her lips were beginning to dip towards his, Ben was speaking again, his eyes still fixated upon her face.

 

“You’ve never been nothing. Not to me. Not even these last two years. I’ve _missed_ you, Rey. You don’t know how badly I wanted to try and talk to you- to see you. But Snoke thought-”

 

Snoke. The single name brought reality crashing back down around them. Snoke. The reason Ben had left. The reason he had stayed away.

 

Ben allowed his sentence to trail off, as he too realized the shift in the room.

 

She didn’t rip her hand away suddenly. She didn’t jump back like she had been burned. No, instead Rey gave his fingers a gentle squeeze, before slowly letting her hand fall back down to her side as she began to put space between them. The spell had been broken. The lure of Ben was being washed away. Tears were slowly falling down her cheeks, and Rey saw his arm twitch, as if he was going to reach for her again. But Ben stayed still, his gaze fixated on hers.

 

This hurt so much the second time. It shouldn’t hurt like this; shouldn’t feel like a fresh wound all over again. Rey had tried so hard to move on. She had done nothing but plowed forward, trying to start over and forget Ben. They had already broken up. It had happened over two years ago and yet, it was as if they were standing in their apartment once more, both wanting each other but also choosing different paths; paths that didn’t intertwine or connect. Ben had made his choice. Rey had made hers. What else was there to do? To say? As much as it hurt, some things were just too broken beyond repair.

 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice shook, her tone barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry Ben.” The tears began to fall faster, and Rey saw the way his lip began to twitch; the way his jaw clenched, a tell tale sign that he was holding something back, whether it was tears or words or all of the above.

 

“You’ve gone down this path and I just- I can’t go with you. As much as I love you, I just- I can’t, Ben.” Rey barely got his name out, choking on the sob that wracked her body.

 

“You could.” The coldness was gone from his voice. Instead there was something different; desperation. A plea? “You could come with me, Rey. We could make our own way. We could start our own firm. No more Resistance. No more First Order. Just- we can- we can let the past die. Kill it, if we have to. We can start over, Rey. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

 

Slowly her body turned away from his. The look in his eyes; the way his gaze bore into hers. She didn’t want to break him again. Didn’t he understand how much this hurt? Didn’t he understand that Rey didn’t _leave_ people. She clung to them like they were a life raft in the middle of a stormy sea. And if she had left him… if she had walked away… Didn’t he realize how bad it was getting? How much he was spiraling?

 

“I’m sorry about your uncle, Ben.” Rey took a deep, shaky breath as she wiped away at the tears running down her face. Her mascara was probably running. She was going to walk out of this room with black streaks down her cheeks, marking her like war paint. Then again, this was a funeral. People were supposed to cry. Their eyes were meant to look puffy and red. Usually though you were crying about the dead. Not about the living who had lost their life in a different way.

 

“Rey-”

 

She didn’t let him finish. It took all her power not to turn and throw her body into his; to feel the warmth of his embrace. It took all her will to not get one last look at him. Because this had to be it. This had to be goodbye. It had been hard enough the first time and now the second. Rey knew there couldn’t be a third.

 

“Goodbye, Ben.” To be honest, Rey wasn’t sure if he even heard it. The words slipped from her lips like a shallow breath. And with that she turned towards the door. He said her name again. He began to repeat it, like an enchantment, a spell. But Rey tried to tune him out. She focused on nothing but her movements; focused on the way the metal of the doorknob felt cool under her fingertips as she turned the handle. She focused on the sound of chatter and dishes clanging as the door was opened and the noise of the wake began to creep into the office. And she focused on the soft ‘thud’ of the heavy wooden door shutting behind her, as Rey closed the door to the office and tried once again to close that chapter on her life.


	2. The Second Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everyone mourned in their own ways. Poe threw himself back into work. Finn went on a spending spree. Rose began to clean, and organize and purge, not a single magazine or a dress that hadn’t been worn in the past six months left behind in her wake.
> 
> Rey…. Rey shut down. She stopped feeling. She became a robot, going through the same, expected motions over and over again. She curled into a ball and hoped no one would notice her, that they would just leave her alone and let her be.
> 
> And Ben? Ben ran away."

ONE YEAR LATER

It was deja vu again. Except this time it was much harder. _So_ much harder. Luke had been a mentor and a friend. But Leia? Leia had been their leader. She had been the backbone and the head and the heart of Resistance for so long. And then, she was just gone, as if someone had snapped their fingers and her life had left her body quickly upon command.

 

With Luke, they had known the end was inevitable. He had had symptoms and numerous, nerve wracking doctor appointments where he kept insisting that he was fine, that everything was fine. And then there had been a diagnosis and at the end even hospice care. They had all watched Luke fade away into nothing, watched bit by bit as he began to lose the battle of his life.

 

Leia hadn’t been like that. She had been fine one moment. Had been teasing Poe and berating Finn and discussing a new book that she felt hopeful about. And then suddenly she was gasping for air. She was grabbing her arm and she didn’t look good, her coloring was off and she was so _pale_. And then her body was falling and everyone was shouting and 9-1-1 had been dialed. But it was too late. She was gone before she had even hit the ground.

 

And Rey had watched it all. Had seen it happen, and she had just felt numb.

 

She didn’t even hear the ambulance sirens. She wasn’t sure when the paramedics came or what they did or how they got Leia’s body from the floor and onto their stretcher. Rey couldn’t even say that she was crying, that she was doing anything but watch the scene play before her. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak.

 

But then Finn was at her side, trying to pull her out of her trance. And he was speaking to her softly, saying something about Ben. Ben? Yes, Ben. That someone needed to call Ben.

 

“I’ll do it.” Rey heard the words coming out of her mouth, but she didn’t remember telling her brain to speak. She didn’t remember grabbing her phone or stepping out into the hallway. Her hands had been shaking so bad, but somehow Rey found his number, still saved under favorites on her phone. She had hit the call button, had brought the phone up to her ear and let it ring.

 

Maybe he had changed his number. Maybe he had blocked hers. Maybe he wouldn’t answer.

 

But then his voice was there, right in her ear. It was somehow gruff but soft; a contradiction just like Ben. And Rey opened her mouth, her mind swirling with what to say and how to get it out. But no sound came. She was just standing there, her entire body going into shock and she didn’t know how to break the news to him; didn’t know how to tell Ben that his mother was dead.

 

Rey wasn’t sure where Rose even came from. Her friend was taking charge, was gently taking the phone out of her hands and explaining to Ben that he needed to get to Hanna City General right away, and that there was something wrong with Leia.

 

From there, it just continued to be a blur. But instead of standing still, unable to move, now everything was in motion. She had been ushered into Poe’s car, along with Finn and Rose and Kaydel. They were all crammed into the Jeep, and then they were racing down the city streets, ignoring stop signs and red lights and speed limits. Because maybe this was all just a mistake. Maybe if they got Leia to the hospital fast enough, maybe she would be alright. Maybe she was still holding on; maybe there was a faint pulse in there, somewhere and she could be revived, if only she had the right doctors and the right medicine and the right timing. The stars could align and everything would be alright.

 

Poe was with the doctors when they called her time of death. Rey will never forget the broken look on his face. After all, Poe was the optimistic one. He was the one who was always urging them forward. He never stopped moving; never stopped trying. Now he just looked as if he was giving up. Because Leia was like a mother to him and how could she be gone? She was supposed to always be there. She was supposed to outlive them all.

 

Kaydel was crying and so was Rose. Finn just stood there, in the middle of the hallway, dumbfounded and ignoring the people that were trying to move past him in the bustling emergency room with real emergencies and living people who had broken bones and cuts that needed sutures and sicknesses that wouldn’t go away.

 

And then suddenly, he was here.

 

“Ben.”

 

It was the first word out of her mouth since it happened. He was just standing there, looking so lost and alone. Ben was always alone.

 

And then, more movement. But not from Rey. Rey was stuck, waiting in the hard plastic chair that was that weird shade of eggplant that was always popular in waiting rooms. Her eyes were glued to Poe, who was walking towards Ben and no, it shouldn’t be Poe. Rey remembered thinking that Poe shouldn’t be the one to tell Ben that Leia was dead. Because Poe was Leia’s surrogate son; the person she had taken so closely under her wing. The person who had been there before, during and after Ben.

 

Rey abruptly jumped to her feet. She then was jogging and then just flat out running across the too big and too busy emergency room, trying to get put herself between the two men before the news could be broken; before the words could slip out of Poe’s lips and Ben’s life would once again be forever changed.

 

“Ben.” Rey said louder, this time finding her voice. Her eye’s met his, and instantly she knew that he understood. No one had to say another word. It was all etched into her face. After all, Rey had never been good at hiding her emotions.

 

“ _Ben_.” He was turning on his heel, the dark fabric of his coat swinging behind him, like a dramatic cloak in a period drama. “Wait- Ben.” All she could say was his name, like a prayer upon her lips that she kept chanting over and over, trying to bring herself some sort of comfort. “Stop, Ben-”

 

And then Finn was beside her, gently taking her hand and shaking his head. “Let him go, Rey. Give him space. Let him process.”

 

She shook her head, trying to tug her arm free from his grip but by then it was too late. A new wave of people came through the automatic doors, and she knew, even if she went running after him, he would already be gone, lost into the crowd of the city streets outside. Lost in his own thoughts, in his own world because his mother had just died, and even if you were Ben Solo that had to hurt. Even if you hadn’t spoken to her in weeks, months, _years_ , it still caused you pain.

 

Besides, they weren’t in each other’s lives anymore. Rey wasn’t supposed to be the one to pick up the pieces as they fell in his wake. It was no longer her job to put him back together.

 

A few days had passed. Rey was in the same black dress that she had worn to Luke’s funeral. Maybe it was a bad omen. Maybe she should just toss the dress into the first fire place she came across. Were you supposed to wear a funeral dress more than once? She had held onto it after Luke had died, just shoving it in the back of her closet ‘just in case’, but hoping she never had to see it again; never had to wear it. And now… now it was the only black dress she had and she didn’t have time to run to the mall or order something online. And Leia had said it looked nice. Hell, Leia had been the one to pick it out. It had just shown up on the doorstep of Rey’s apartment. Leia had been a fairy godmother, even when they were preparing for a funeral opposed to a ball.

 

So, it was the dress that Leia had picked out, that Rey wore to say her final goodbyes.

 

Luke’s funeral had been a quiet affair. It had been low key. He had been cremated. There hadn’t really been a funeral per say, just a small memorial service followed by a gathering back at his house, with his closest friends, students and colleagues.

 

Leia was different. Leia had touched so many lives. She had helped so many people, whether it was to get their books published or finding their place in the literary word. Whether they worked at Resistance or had just interned and had gone on to other things, everyone seemed to stay in touch with Leia. And Leia had stayed in touch with them.

 

Which meant that Leia couldn’t die without saying goodbye. Even if she wanted nothing more than something small and intimate, it wasn’t feasible. Because Leia was one of those people who was a mentor. Who guided strangers until they turned into friends, into family. And _they_ all needed to say goodbye.

 

The funeral service hadn’t even started yet. People were just stopping by, paying their respects. It was like some weird cocktail party, with food and drinks being passed around on silver trays, and everyone making polite small talk or sharing stories of the deceased. Poe was acting like the host, with Finn and Rose and Kay beside him. They were all playing the parts of dutiful protege. They were offering hugs and handshakes. They were the ones comforting others while also being consoled. They were doing what Leia would have wanted; to keep moving. To keep the hope alive.

 

Work had been better, lately. At least before all of… this. Of course it wasn’t magically fixed. Luke had left his house behind and Leia, as much as it had hurt her, had sold it along with the land that surrounded it, to help get Resistance out of debt. It had been a difficult call to make, one that had been debated and argued about for weeks on end. But that was one of Leia’s special gifts; making the hard decisions and doing it well. Leia had also sold a couple signed copies of his books, worth more now that he was dead than they ever had been when Luke was still alive. All in the name of Resistance. Of one last attempt to get their heads above water; to save the day.

 

And it had worked. It had helped. It had made them all feel like they could breath a little easier; like they could move again, without feeling as if every step they took was one more closer to the end. Leia had something in the works as well, a new book, that no one, even Poe had been clued in on. Something that Leia just kept saying would help them ‘win this war’ though who they were fighting and what for, Rey didn’t know. But it had made everyone feel rejuvenated; feel reborn.

 

Little did they know, once they were beginning to rise from the ashes, everything would change.

 

No one knew what Resistance looked like without Leia. No one even dared to imagine it. Even Poe who had been training under Leia’s wing for years, couldn’t picture Resistance Publishing without Leia Organa manning it’s wheel.

 

But businesses didn’t work like that. They couldn’t stop, even for the dead. Poe was the clear replacement for Leia’s now vacant editor-in-chief position, though her CEO role remained untouched. Rumor had it that Amilyn Holdo would take it. After all, she was the most senior member of staff, after Leia. She had been there since the beginning, having been recruited once Leia and Luke had started the publishing firm.

 

Rey didn’t want to think about work, right now. She didn’t want to be asked questions in which she didn’t know the answers too. She didn’t want to put on a brave face. She didn’t want to act like everything would be fine.

 

Because she could have gone after him. She should have gone after him.

 

Now, Rey wasn’t sure if he was going to show up. Ben had come to Luke’s funeral, but that could have been for ulterior motives. That could have been because he listened to the voicemails that his mother had left and the guilt finally kicked in. Or maybe because he wanted to use the experience in his next book. They were based off of his family. And an uncle dying too soon, too young and too quickly… that was material right up Ben’s alley.

 

Or maybe he had just wanted to see her.

 

No. That wasn’t it. That was Rey being selfish, being self centered. Because it had been _two_ years and you did not show up to your uncle’s funeral to try and get back together with your ex-girlfriend.

 

This, on the other hand… this was different. This was his mother. His last parent. The last of his kin and blood. And because of that, Rey knew the reality of Leia’s funeral was going to be harder for Ben to face. Dammit, she _should_ have been there for him. She should of reached out; should of called, or dropped by his apartment, or _something_.

 

Rose had sent him all the information. Leia’s will and final testament had already been established long ago. There weren’t any decisions to make in regards for funeral preparations, because in typical Leia fashion, she had made them all herself. So there really was no need to speak to Ben, other than to tell him the time and the place.

 

Now the service was due to start any minute. Rey had kept towards the back of the room, her eyes fixated on the doorway, her heart skipping a beat anytime someone tall and dark entered the room. It was ironic, really. The one time Ben would actually be expected to show up at a funeral was the one time he didn’t come.

 

Then again, he had barely shown up to Han’s.

 

Rey hadn’t spotted him until the very end, when he was standing at the edge of the graveyard. And he had turn and left, without saying a word. No one else had seen him. Leia and Luke both went to their deathbeds, thinking that Ben hadn’t had the courage, hadn’t had the respect for his father to show up and watch him be placed into the ground.

 

But Ben had been there. He hadn’t been there long. Maybe two minutes. Maybe three. But it still counted. Rey had still seen him. The only difference then, was that when Ben turned to walk away, when he had gone to leave, Rey had followed him.

 

Everyone was beginning to file into the adjacent room. Music was beginning to play, something instrumental and soothing. Rey didn’t know the name of it, but she had heard the same melody drifting out of Leia’s office numerous times. It was pretty. It was light, but also a little sad. Or maybe it only was sad now because of what it represented; a favorite song that was playing for a person that could no longer hear it.

 

Rey hung back. She stayed in a small, out of the way corner of the main receiving hall, silently begging and pleading for Finn to not see her, for her presence to just go entirely unnoticed. Finn had been hanging by her side almost nonstop and Rey just needed a break; needed to try and get _space_ and to take a breath. He was her best friend. Her family. But even he was too much now.

 

God, right now Rey would give anything for a cigarette. It was a habit that she had never indulged in, apart from the occasional drag at a party or outside of a bar. Maybe breathing in all that second hand smoke from Leia was now paying off. It would be her final gift. Rey would carry on her legacy through picking up a terrible nicotine addiction.

 

The thought almost brought a smirk to Rey’s face.

 

Almost.

 

The funeral service was now starting.

 

Rey continued to hang back. She waited until everyone seemed to be distracted. They had formed a line, and were slowly filing into the adjacent room where the actual service would be conducted. And while they moved forward, Rey moved back. She stepped out into the foyer, making her way down the hallway and out a side door. It was the same funeral parlor where Han’s services had been held. It was nice, but generic in a way that all funeral homes seemed to be. But this, of course, this was just where the actual service was happening. There was still the meal afterwards. Leia was always a fan of having secondary locations. Starting the evening one place, only to end it somewhere else.

 

Where as Han’s wake had taken place in the Cantina, a dive bar downtown which had always been his home away from home, Leia’s was going to be held at some restaurant along the river, a placed called Naboo that Poe insisted was her favorite. Rey had never heard it, never had heard Leia even mention it.

 

Then again there was a lot about Leia that Rey had never known.

 

Rey clutched her purse in one hand, but didn’t even bother with her coat, despite the fact that the March air outside still held onto the winter chill. She just ignored the goosebumps that broke out over her exposed flesh. She didn’t even have tights on. Luke had passed away during the summer. She hadn’t needed them then, and Rey hadn’t even thought about what she would do if she got caught outside today.

 

Because Rey hadn’t really planned on spending time outside.

 

Though she also hadn’t planned on being at a funeral today, either.

 

Rey wasn’t sure how long she stood outside. Eventually she moved to sit down onto the concrete steps that led up to the historic looking building. The building stood away from the side of the road, and there was a driveway, where a black, sleek looking car was currently parked. The hearse. It had carried Leia from the hospital to here, and it would take her from here to the cemetery just down the road. Where Han was buried. Where Leia would soon be buried under the earth too.

 

Quickly Rey adverted her gaze.

 

Her knees were bent, as her arms looped around her legs, drawing them towards her chest. She didn’t care about hemlines or modesty. She didn’t care about acting ‘proper’ or ‘ladylike’. No one was out here. No one was going to walk by and see. Everyone was either too busy with their lives, walking straight by the funeral parlor without a second look. Or they were all inside. Where Rey should be. Paying their respects and listening as person after person shared their own story; their tale in which Leia was always the heroine who helped to mold and alter their lives.

 

“You look cold.”

 

She knew his voice. A shiver ran down her spine, which Rey knew had nothing to do with the cold outside.

 

Ben.

 

Ben was here.

 

Ben had came.

 

The dam broke. Rey began to cry. She really was always crying around him, wasn’t she? But this was different. The tears she was shedding weren’t because of Ben. No this time, they were for him.

 

“Ben.” Rey choked out his name, as she began to stand, her legs shaking like a newborn foal. “Oh, Ben.” He stood in the driveway, his hair was a mess and his eyes rimmed with red. It was enough that it made Rey forget everything; forget his betrayal and the way he had hurt her. It made her forget everything that had happened, whether at their apartment two years ago or at Luke’s funeral last July.

 

Right now, Rey knew her role. She knew what she needed to do. She knew the part she was meant to play.

 

She ran to him.

 

Her steps were clumsy as her feet carried her to where Ben stood. She was surprised she didn’t trip or fall. She was surprised he didn’t move away. That he just stood there. Solid, like an island made of rock standing strong as a hurricane whirled around it. But then again, he always had been her rock; her anchor. He had been the one to hold her steadfast. To make her think deeper and harder. To take things seriously. And she had been the one to loosen him up. To make him laugh. To relax and stop thinking and just start doing. To make friends and have a good time.

 

Balance. They had always balanced one another out.

 

Rey looped her arms around his middle, her face pressing into the center of his chest. She continued to cry, her body shaking with every sob, as the reality of Leia’s death began to sink in. “I’m so sorry. I’m _so_ sorry, Ben.” She was sorry for so much and yet she didn’t know what she was apologizing for the most. Was she sorry for leaving and not coming back in the first place? Sorry for turning him away when he came to Luke’s service? Sorry that she didn’t go after him after he had appeared at the hospital? Or sorry for the loss of his mother; sorry that he no longer had the one person that had always loved him unconditionally, without a single fault.

 

The apologies kept spilling from her lips. Over and over again, she kept saying those two worries, muffled by her cries. She couldn’t stop, so she didn’t even try. They both just stood there, Rey holding onto Ben and Ben holding onto Rey.

 

It began to rain. It was almost ironic, really. A cloudy sky and a steady, cold drizzle on the day of a funeral. Just like a movie scene or an excerpt from a melodramatic novel.

 

The cold didn’t register to Rey but her body was beginning to show signs of it; her lips were beginning to change color and she continued to shake. Still, Rey made no move to go inside. She just clung to Ben, keeping him close. She didn’t want to move, afraid that if she did that Ben would be gone.

 

It was Ben who took the first step. H began to lead her, at first Rey thought towards the entrance to the funeral home. But just as she opened her mouth to protest, to tug on his arm and to make him stop, they ducked into a little alcove; a doorway to some side entrance that looked as if it was seldom used. It at least got them into a dry space; gave them three walls to fight against the wind and the cold.

 

They stood facing one another, their bodies still close enough to touch.

 

The last time she stood this close to Ben, Rey had felt nothing but sparks. Now, the electricity was still there. But it was different. It had changed. It was more of a constant hum. Something steady. Dependable. Yet still held enough of a charge that she could feel the static when her skin touched his.

 

Rey opened her mouth again, wanting to explain. She needed to do more than just apologize. Sorry could only get you so far. She was sure that Ben had questions; had wanted to know why the phone call came from her number, only for Rose’s voice to be on the other end. He had seen her at the hospital. Rey was certain of that. Everyone had been there. The majority of the Resistance staff had been in that emergency room, all hoping, wishing, praying to whatever powers at be that they believed in, that this would be a mistake; that Leia would be awake in a couple hours, cracking jokes and making them all go back to work.

 

Most of all she wanted to explain why she wasn’t there for him. How she _wanted_ to be there for him.

 

Ben beat her to it. Ben spoke first.

 

“I quit First Order.”

 

It wasn’t the type of news that Rey expected to hear at her ex-boyfriend’s mother’s funeral. But still, it was a silver lining. A small, thin, barely there one, but that counted for something. Right?

 

Tilting her head up, Rey tried to get a good look at his face. He looked tired, so much more tired than a year ago, at Luke’s house. It was instinct that guided her hand to his face, her palm slowly sliding across his cheek, her fingertips lightly tracing over the scar that stretched from above his eyebrow, down his cheek and down his neck, where it disappeared under the collar of his dress shirt. The scar he had gotten from the car crash; the one where Ben had made it out relatively unscathed where as Han had taken most of the impact.

 

They were both orphans now. They had both had lost their parents at different ages, in different ways. But somehow Rey felt more connected to him now. Somehow she felt as if they understood each other in a way that they never had before.

 

“Are you-” She began to speak, her tone low and hesitant. Her hand finally came to rest on his chest. Rey’s touch was still light, as if she was afraid if she pushed to hard, she would break him. As if the mirage of Ben Solo before her would suddenly fade away into the rain and the wind, the whole thing nothing but an illusion in her mind.

 

She didn’t even need to finish her question, and Ben was already giving a shake of his head. “No. I’m not going back to Resistance.”

 

It would be a lie if she said she hadn’t felt a small surge of disappointment. But Ben had been right. That wasn’t his place. Resistance belonged to Leia. It belonged to Luke and to Poe. To Rose and Finn and Kaydel. To Holdo. To… Rey. It wasn’t his place.

 

“We can talk about this later,” Rey’s hand continued it’s descent, her fingers brushing against his abdomen as her arm slowly fell to her side. “We should go inside. You should see everyone. You should be at the service. We both should be.” Already she was moving, turning away from Ben to exit the alcove they had found refuge in. It would be the right thing to do. The responsible thing. She had found Ben and she should take him inside. He should pay his respects. He should say his goodbye.

 

Barely a foot had been stepped back out into the rain, when she felt his fingers curling around her arm, pulling her back. So much of this echoed the last time they had spoken. So much was similar to the way he had taken her hand in Luke’s study; had tried to keep her there so he could say his piece, so he could try and convince her to join him, whether that was at First Order or on their own.

 

Rey braced herself for the same speech. She had heard it twice before. Nothing was going to change her mind now. She didn’t want to fight with Ben. She was so tired of fighting with him. Of reliving the same argument over and over again, every time someone died and they found their paths crossing once again.

 

“I’m not going inside.” Ben’s voice was firm. It was unwavering and his decision was final. There would be no changing his mind. No persuading him.

 

Everyone mourned in their own ways. Poe threw himself back into work. Finn went on a spending spree. Rose began to clean, and organize and purge, not a single magazine or a dress that hadn’t been worn in the past six months left behind in her wake.

 

Rey…. Rey shut down. She stopped feeling. She became a robot, going through the same, expected motions over and over again. She curled into a ball and hoped no one would notice her, that they would just leave her alone and let her be.

 

And Ben? Ben ran away.

 

There wasn’t a right way to do it. There wasn’t a wrong way either. And if Ben felt that he didn’t need a funeral service and a wake at a restaurant to help his mourn the loss of his mother, well then Rey wasn’t going to make him. He was an adult and so was she. They were allowed to make their own choices; make their own mistakes. If they fucked up, well they had to live with the consequences, didn’t they? That was on their shoulders.

 

A small exhale slipped past her lips. Glancing from Ben to the building they were huddled beside, Rey gave a small nod, accepting his decision. The service was going to be long but eventually it would end. They couldn’t just stand here forever. The rain was picking up, and at some point, everyone would be making their way outside.

 

Her hand found his, and even Rey was surprised at how natural the action still felt. Like no time had passed. Like they hadn’t missed a single beat in this dance. Turning, she took a step back out into the steady drizzle, pulling Ben along beside her.

 

“My apartment’s down the street.” Rey explained, when he shot her a puzzled look. “Something tells me that we both could use a drink.”

 

They could have gone to a bar. They passed by plenty that were open in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. They could of stopped at a nearby restaurant or diner, gone to somewhere to grab some food. They could have gone to a coffee shop or a cafe, could of grabbed a warm drink and sat in a big, over sized armchair as they sought shelter from the rain.

 

But Rey’s apartment had been just around the corner. She had bottles of untouched alcohol there. They wouldn’t need to pay for anything. They wouldn’t need to worry about who was getting the bill. They could have privacy; could talk about things, and drink and not worry about bumping into anyone that had a connection to Resistance or First Order; anyone that knew Leia or Snoke.

 

Where they could yell, and argue and shout, because let’s face it, this was Rey and Ben. Rey and Ben only had civil conversations for so long.

 

Where they could cry.

 

Part of Rey was also selfish. Part of Rey wanted Ben to see that she _could_ have a life without him. So that she could prove to him that she could get by on her own just fine.

 

Even though this wasn’t about that. This wasn’t about her. This was about Ben. This was about grief and death and coping.

 

This wasn’t about them. This was _bigger_ than them.

 

Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

 

Rey’s apartment was close enough that they opted to just walk. Of course, when they were halfway there the heavens seemed to open up and the light drizzle now morphed into a proper downpour.

 

By then they were only two blocks away. It was silly to try and get a cab or wait and call for an Uber.

 

So, they ran for it.

 

By the time they made it into Rey’s building, they were both soaked to the bone. But they were laughing. She didn’t even know what they were laughing about, and even if she asked Ben, he probably didn’t know either.

 

Fuck, it felt good to be laughing.

 

Rey couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed, let alone with Ben.

 

They made their way up the stairs, and Rey fumbled for her keys. It took her a moment to get the deadbolts and locks undone. There was an obscene amount of security for her door. The last tenant must have been paranoid. Or cautious. Or maybe both. But then the final key was in place and the knob was being turned. Rey pushed open the door and hung back, just for a moment as she watched Ben glance inside.

 

Her apartment was a small, third floor studio. It wasn’t much, but it was her own.

 

“I stayed with Finn and Rose for a while.” Rey explained, though Ben hadn’t asked a single question. She led the way inside, and it was then that she realized her hand was still in his, both of their palms sweaty and their grip tight.

 

Slowly, Rey let go of him, instead moving to close the door behind them. She continued to talk, to ramble on. “I slept on their couch for almost a month. Then I crashed in Poe’s guest room for another few weeks, and then I figured I needed a place of my own. So,” Rey paused, turning to look at Ben as she set her purse down on a little table by the front door. “Here we are.”

 

There wasn’t much to see, but at the same time there was a lot to take in. White kitchen cabinet’s lined one wall, making a little L shaped kitchen. There was a teal couch, one that looked worn and comfortable, paired with an old rocking chair and a small, round coffee table that was piled high with books and magazines, a couple forgotten mugs and a small tool kit. The TV was old; one of those little ones with a built in VCR player that was the envy of every child in the early 2000’s.

 

And there were shelves. So many shelves, all filled to the brim with books. So many books.

 

Dishes were in the sink. Laundry was thrown about, mostly on the small, narrow staircase that led up to the loft where Rey’s ‘bedroom’ was located. The drawer’s to her dresser (which doubled as a television stand) weren’t shut all the way, with clothes peeking and poking out. And the papers. There were just as many papers strewn about as there were books.

 

Rey had never been neat. She had never been the type who thought everything needed to look like a museum, like it was sterile and pristine. She had bounced around so much as a kid, between different foster homes, that when she finally stayed in one place, well, Rey had wanted it to _feel_ like hers.

 

It was a mess, but at least it was her mess.

 

She continued to watch Ben, lightly tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth, trying to gauge his reaction. What a fucked up day it was. Leia was dead. They had ditched the funeral and now what? Rey was giving him a house tour? Waiting for his.. praise? Approval? A pat on the back that she was a full functioning adult? It was a mess. _They_ were a mess.

 

But then again, so was life.

 

So was death.

 

“Let me get you a towel,” Rey needed to do something. They couldn’t just keep standing there, both soaked to the bone, and just _staring_. She moved to flick on a light switch, and then made work of plugging in a small, oscillating space heater. “I probably could find something if you wanted to change,” She added, calling over her shoulder as she made a beeline for the bathroom. “I’m pretty sure a t-shirt or two of yours got mixed up with my stuff when I moved out.” Coming to a pause once in the bathroom, Rey picked up two towels that had been on the floor. She made quick work of trying to decipher which one was clean. If either of them were clean.

 

Oh well, it wasn’t like they had never shared a towel before.

 

Walking back into the main room, Rey offered the towel to Ben, his fingers brushing against hers as he accepted it. His face was hard to read. For once, he wasn’t trying to be aloof. He wasn’t trying to be distant and cold. But there was something different about him too. A shift. A change that Rey had yet to pinpoint or entirely realize.

 

“I’m fine.” Ben insisted, his voice level and calm. Rey wasn’t going to push it. She nodded. “Well, if you change your mind...”

 

The goosebumps had never left her arms and legs. Her dress was sticking to her body, clinging to every curve and angle. She felt like she was wearing a glove. It just felt too tight. She felt stuck; felt trapped and suffocated and exposed by the wet fabric.

 

“I’ll be right back. Drinks are in there,” She jerked her head towards the direction of a bright yellow metal cart. It currently housed all of her drinks and ‘fancy’ glasses. It had been a joint house warming gift from Poe, Finn and Rose, stocked with her (and their) favorite types of alcohol and mixes. It also had come with a set of beautiful cocktail glasses. As stupid as it sounded, the cart made Rey feel like an adult; like the type of woman that threw together themed dinner parties for her friends. The type of woman that owned pantyhose that were the perfect shade to match her skin, that didn’t have any rips and fit just right.

 

That cart belonged to someone that had their shit together, so even when the rest of her apartment looked trashed, that improvised bar cart was the sole sign that Rey could do this.

 

That she was fine.

 

That she wasn’t crashing and burning.

 

That she was beating the odds.

 

That she was a success.

 

Then again, maybe a metal IKEA cart full of alcohol was a bad symbol for having a prosperous life.

 

Rey reached down, pulling one black heel and then it’s pair from her feet. She tossed them into a nearby basket which already housed some shoes. Though there were more just tossed carelessly beside it, rather than actually in the basket. One heel made it in. The other landed on the wooden floor, about six inches away. _Close enough_ , Rey thought, her bare feet already climbing the narrow staircase that led to the loft.

 

Glancing around her ‘room’, Rey found a pair of gray sweatpants that were soft and well worn. She paired it with a cream, long sleeve Henley pullover. It was big and baggy; was warm without being bulky and didn’t leave Rey feeling like she was dressed in a sleeping bag. With clothes located, her fingers moved to the zipper on the side of her dress that went the length of her rib cage. She gripped the pull, beginning to tug it down, the sound of the zipper being undone sounding loud in the quiet apartment.

 

Too loud.

 

Abruptly Rey stopped, just standing there frozen with her dress half undone. She heard faint clang of glass on glass. Ben was pouring himself a drink.

 

Ben.

 

She had forgotten about Ben.

 

Ben who could probably see her right now.

 

Ben who could probably see her getting undressed.

 

_Shit._

 

Feeling like a deer in the headlights, Rey wondered if she should just grab her clothes, pull back on her dress and go downstairs to the bathroom to change. But would that make things more uncomfortable? Would that call attention to the fact that Rey was thinking about where to get dressed? About the fact that there was only one room in this entire apartment that had a door to hide behind, and Rey was clearly making a beeline for it?

 

“Get it together, Niima.” Rey muttered to herself, rolling her eyes. It wasn’t like Ben had never seen her in her underwear before. It wasn’t like Ben had never even seen her naked. They had fucked. Numerous times. At one point in their relationship, they had been naked more than they had been dressed. And whenever Rey _had_ put clothes on, it had usually been in one of his shirts.

 

Besides, Rey had seen Ben naked just as much as he had seen her. Had seen his broad shoulders and bare back, both speckled with beauty marks and freckles and moles, and the way it morphed into the curve of his tight ass. She had seen his chest. She had touched it. All of it. Had licked and kissed and nipped at every inch of him. She had left her mark on Ben, over and over again. Rey had made him hers. And she had been his. They had belonged to each other.

 

She even remembered the face he would make when he came. The way he always kept his eyes opened; his gaze fixated on her, as if he didn’t even want to blink, didn’t want to miss even a second of they way their bodies moved together, grinding and thrusting, their rhythm just a little off, creating more friction, so that every time they actually moved in sync it felt that much better.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Quickly, Rey shook her head.

 

This is not what she should be thinking of.

 

Hastily her fingers moved to drag the zipper the rest of the way down. She was yanking the wet fabric of her dress up and over her head.

 

She shouldn’t be thinking about Ben naked.

 

She shouldn’t be thinking about the way he looked when they had sex.

 

His _mother_ had just died. Rey hadn’t brought him back to her place for a hook up. No. They were here to drink; to drink and mourn Leia and to talk and to just….

 

Again, she faltered for a moment. Rey just stood there, in nothing but her underwear, a plain black bra and a pair of polka dotted panties.

 

Because why had she really brought Ben back here? Where did she think this was going? He had said he quit First Order. He had left Snoke. And Rey was sure that hadn’t been simple. There had to be more to the story. His contract alone had probably been impossible to get out of, all knotted up with enough legal jargon to keep their best selling author in line. To keep their grip on him ironclad.

 

And Snoke, First Order… that was just one piece of a puzzle.

 

Sure it had been the catalyst, the final straw to cause their relationship to break.

 

But in retrospect, it hadn’t been the only issue either. There had been the fighting; the bickering that led into shout matches and doors slammed. Not to mention the baggage they both brought to the table. Rey and her abandonment issues. Ben and his past with his family. Which was now more complicated by the fact that his family was… gone.

 

But they weren’t getting back together. That wasn’t why they were here. That wasn’t why Rey had brought him here.

 

“Drinks. This is just getting drinks.” Rey mumbled under her breath, her voice stern. “This is in Leia’s honor and just- it’s _drinks_.” Sharply, she yanked the shirt on over her head before stepping into her sweatpants. Already Rey had taken too long. Had been up here for what felt like ages. Her hair was a dripping wet, tangled mess. She tugged a comb through it quickly, pausing to wipe the streaks of black eyeliner from her cheeks with a tissue. She _should_ wash her face. She should get a shower. But Rey couldn’t be bothered. The weight of the day was still resting heavily on her shoulders. All she wanted right now in this moment was a big cup of something strong.

 

Raking a hand through her damp hair, Rey headed back down the steps. She flashed Ben a brief, tight smile. He was standing in the middle of the apartment, a glass of amber liquid clenched tightly in his hand. His suit jacket had been discarded, and his white dress shirt looked surprisingly dry. Maybe a couple damp spots here and there, but not too bad. He had pushed up the sleeves too, exposing his strong forearms, one hand still clutching the glass while the other hung at his side.

 

Rey just… looked at him.

 

Studied him.

 

Stared.

 

His wet hair had been pushed back away from his face. It was even longer than the last time they had been together, in Luke’s study. And Ben had grown out his facial hair into what was it called a goatee? It looked… nice. It made him seem more, distinguished? Was that the word she wanted? No. Maybe just, older. More mature.

 

Or maybe that wasn’t the dark facial hair at all.

 

Maybe that was because losing your mother always made you suddenly age.

 

They were both just staring at each other now. Ben was studying her face as much as Rey was looking at his. This type of scrutiny usually made her feel awkward, uncomfortable. She didn’t do well being the center of attention. It was something she had been working on. Had been trying to improve.

 

As a kid attention was something she had always vied for. She wanted to be noticed. Wanted someone to just give her their undivided focus. To show her affection and love. But after being pushed aside over and over and over again, Rey had begun to grow into being comfortable on the sidelines. She was used to being a background character. To being part of the scenery.

 

And the less attention you drew to yourself, the less trouble got in.

 

But things were better now.

 

Rey could lead a meeting at work. She could speak in front of a group of people. She could handle opening a gift in front of a crowd.

 

But being focused on like this.. it was something else entirely. A horse of a different color.

 

It was as if Ben was able to see right through her. Like he could peel back her layers, one by one, exposing every single insecurity and flaw. Like he was slowly chipping away at her armor; at the layer of protection she wore around herself, like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

 

She had always been an open book to Ben. Because they had always been opposite sides to the same coin. It’s why they had worked so well together until they didn’t.

 

“I should get a drink.” Rey’s words felt abrupt, but they did their job of breaking whatever spell had fallen between them.

 

She _needed_ a drink.

 

Whether it was in Leia’s honor or to just cope with the fact that Ben was standing in her living room. Ben had already nursed half of his drink away. She needed to even the playing field; needed to catch up and even the score.

 

Turning her back towards him, Rey didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she reached for a bottle of gin, the neck of the bottle clanking roughly against the rim of the glass. “It’s really cold in here.” Rey commented, her voice an octave too high and sounding phony and off. Like she was trying to make small chat with a stranger.

 

Ben wasn’t a stranger.

 

He was a Ben. She knew Ben.

 

Or at least at one point she did.

 

“It’s a great apartment but to be honest the heating sort of sucks.” Rey managed to pour a good serving of gin into the glass, before she reached for a bottle of tonic water. Her hands shook less as she topped off the rest of her drink.

 

Raising the tumbler to her lips, she took a slow sip, trying not to make a face. She hadn’t really mixed it well, but whatever, it was fine. Rey had drank a lot worse. Hell, she had _paid_ for worse drinks before.

 

Looking over the top of her glass, her eyes met Ben’s again. He was still just staring there, not saying anything or really moving. He would just take a sip. Take a sip and keep his gaze on her.

 

“What?” Rey cocked an eyebrow, downing another large gulp of her gin and tonic. When she was done, she raised a hand to her face, wiping away the remnants from her lips with the back of her hand. “Do I have something on my face? You’re _staring_.”

 

Ben looked as if he was going to say something. Rey felt it in the air, too. The way he opened his mouth and then closed it. The way his face look conflicted, as if he didn’t know how to get the words out, like he didn’t know what he wanted to say or how to even say it.

 

Rey could relate.

 

That single, brief moment continued to hang in the air. It dragged on, and had someone told her that they had just stood there, there eyes locked together for an hour, or two or even all night, Rey would of believed them. Because it was the type of moment where you completely lost track of all time. You didn’t know if you were moving forward or backwards or not at all. You were just lost in limbo.

 

And then Ben finally did speak.

 

It just wasn’t what Rey had expected.

 

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

 

His words caused Rey’s brow to furrow as she glanced down at the article of clothing in question.

 

“No I’m not.” Instantly she got defensive, the corners of her mouth turning into a frown. “This is mine.”

 

Was he… Yes, he was. He was actually smirking, shaking his head as he took another drink, this one longer. “I’m telling you Rey, that’s my shirt.”

 

“You’re delusional.” She countered back, still shaking her head as she moved over towards the couch. But was it? It could very much be. Rey didn’t remember where she got it, but the same went for most of her clothes. She didn’t have a very memorable wardrobe. Mostly jeans and tee shirts for her weekend way, maybe a nice top or two if she was going to dinner with friends. Lots of over sized hoodies, one or two which had most definitely been Ben’s at one point or another. And then there were her work clothes; dress pants and button up blouses, along with a couple blazers.

 

But this shirt… no this shirt was _definitely_ hers. It had to be. Sure it was a little bit big. And it looked very unisex; like it could easily be at home in either department. But it was still hers. There was no way the first top she had picked up, had been one she had stolen from Ben during the break up. The universe wasn’t that cruel.

 

“I’m telling you Rey, that’s my shirt.” Ben carried on, a casual air of confidence as he swept past her, hand outstretched for the cheap bottle of bourbon. Her friends kept her well stock in booze, but it was hardly top shelf quality. That didn’t stop Ben, however from pouring a healthy amount back into his tumbler.

 

“So what if it is?” She shrugged her shoulders as she took a seat on the couch, shifting around until she felt settled, her glass resting on the armrest and her legs curled underneath her. “You clearly haven’t missed it. If you did, you would of asked for it back.”

 

“I didn’t realize I was missing it until I saw it on you.”

 

Snorting into her cup, Rey downed the rest of her gin and tonic before she just reached her arm out, holding the glass towards Ben, silently asking him to fill her back up.

 

It was a natural move. One that she had done numerous times before. They had had a system. One where logistics ruled superior. It was simple, really, whoever stood closest to the booze was the one who refilled.

 

But that _had_ been there system. Three years ago. When they had been together.

 

Instantly she felt her cheeks flush. “Sorry, old habit.” Rey began to lower her arm, before she was stopped. Ben was standing in front of her, reaching for her empty glass as he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. He swapped her empty glass for his full one. Another unspoken rule from their little system. The gesture brought a warmth to Rey. It was comforting, to know despite how much time passed, they could fall back into their same pattern; their same routine.

 

It hurt too.

 

Because in some ways, things had been _so_ easy between herself and Ben. Effortless. They had come from opposing corners of the world. They had different upbringings. Different personalities and characteristics; different habits and different things made them twitch. And yet… they were the still the same.

 

They hadn’t been together for very long. Only a year and a half. It was odd to think that they had been broken up almost twice as long as they had been together. It was a thought that made Rey feel like a rock was sitting heavily, deep in her gut.

 

Because maybe if things had been different, they wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

 

Maybe if Rey had returned to the apartment after her walk. Maybe if Ben had taken a moment to just think about how being employed by Snoke affected more than just the name of the publisher on the inside cover of his book.

 

Maybe they would be engaged. Maybe they would of even had a family.

 

Maybe Luke would of still be around. Maybe Leia too.

 

Because if the universe had taught Rey anything, it was that it worked in weird ways.

 

She wasn’t spiritual. She had never been raised to go to church or believe in a god or a power at be. The whole idea of religion had never made sense to Rey. It had never clicked. Even the idea of things like karma and balance were hard concepts for her to grasp. Because how could someone as innocent as a child, someone who had barely gotten started on the journey of life, be dealt such a harsh card?

 

But she also knew that actions dictated consequences. You walked a different route for work, and things happened that maybe wouldn’t of had you taken the subway as usual. You ordered ham and swiss for lunch and ended up with food poisoning, something that wouldn’t of occurred had you just eaten a salad instead.

 

So who knows what would of happened; what could of happened had she stayed with Ben.

 

Or maybe things wouldn’t of turned out as good as the picture that was currently being formed in Rey’s mind. Maybe the fighting would of got worse. Maybe they would of ended up hurting more; ended up cutting wounds deeper and deeper into each other until they couldn’t be healed.

 

Pushing the ‘what if’s’ aside, Rey looked down at Ben’s glass in her hand. Bourbon and gin didn’t have a history of mixing well, but she threw caution to the wind, opting to take too large of a sip.

 

Instantly her expression soured, her nose scrunching up as she held the glass back out to Ben. He had mixed up another gin and tonic, and he quickly swapped the drink she was holding for the one he had just made.

 

“Still not a fan of bourbon.” Ben noted, a teasing edge to his voice. He glanced over at the bar cart before looking back at Rey. “Why do you even have it?”

 

“Poe drinks it.” Rey washed down the burning sensation that the bourbon had left behind with the gin. “He- well, Finn, Rose and him, they got me a bunch of alcohol as a house warming present of sorts. They got the glasses, and a couple mixes. They conveniently included all their favorites as well. Though how Poe drinks that utter rubbish is beyond my comprehension. It smells like rubbing alcohol.”

 

Grinning, Ben raised the bourbon in question up to his lips, taking another sip. He, of course, manged to do so without pulling a face like Rey. “It does. But the taste isn’t that bad. You just have to get used to it.”

 

She didn’t say anything, just gave a slow nod, tucking her chin down towards her chest.

 

It felt nice, to have a normal conversation with Ben. It felt nice to not be shouting. To not be crying or watching Ben punch his fist into a wall.

 

But it also wasn’t real.

 

They were dancing around the subject, around the reason they were here.

 

They were playing pretend.

 

It wasn’t going to last, Rey knew this. Part of her just wanted to blurt out questions; wanted to just ask why. Why were they here. What were they doing. Where was this going? Or would it still end the same, with a fight and a door slamming shut, and someone walking away and someone being left behind.

 

Then again, it was easy to play pretend. Maybe Ben needed to act like everything was normal and fine. Maybe Rey did too.

 

After all, sometimes denial was a good place to live.

\- - -

Rey lost count of how many drinks she had.

 

She was pretty sure Ben had lost count too.

 

She didn’t know when they had given up on glasses, and had begun to take swigs straight from their bottles, (his whiskey and hers tequila). Rey didn’t know when she had abandoned the gin and tonics. And she really didn’t know at what point they had gone from being seated on the couch and armchair respectively, to now both being sat on the floor. And she didn’t know why they were seated so close, their knees brushing against one another as they carried on, talking and laughing and of course, drinking.

 

What Rey did know, was that she was drunk. She was intoxicated and hell, it felt _good_. They were having a good time. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had a good time with Ben. The last time she had heard him laugh and saw him smile, _genuinely_ smile.

 

“I’ve missed you.” Rey spoke without thinking, just letting the words come out. She wanted to reach forward. She wanted to just grasp his hand in hers, and pull him close. She wanted to hug him and hold him and never let go. She wanted to apologize for everything she did that caused their relationship to end.

 

For the part she had played.

 

For not coming back.

 

For giving up.

 

But Rey stayed still. Her back was pressed against the front of the couch. She kept her eyes trained on his face, looking for any sort of little twitch; any sign that she was pushing him too far. Rey’s gaze didn’t break from Ben’s, even as she lifted the bottle of tequila up to her lips, taking a long sip. It didn’t burn anymore. It didn’t hurt. Rey was numb. Her veins were coursing with novacaine. After all, it made it easier to open up when you didn’t feel any pain.

 

As much as Rey tried to think with her head and not her heart, Ben was a blind spot. They could do nothing but harm each other over and over again, and yet she could never stop thinking about him, could never get him out of her heart. And right now, Rey didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to make a pro and cons list. She didn’t want to call up Finn for advice. She didn’t want to go get her hair cut again, and swipe right on Tinder. She might not be stupid, but right now she wanted nothing more than to cling onto this dumb mistake that Rey knew she was about to make.

 

“Rey-”

 

Her name came out like a breath from his lips; light and airy, just a wisp that dissolved into the night. And that name said more than anything else Ben had said all night. It was sad and hopeful. Bittersweet and conflicted. In just one word. Hell, it wasn’t even a word. It was a name.

 

Her name.

 

And with it Ben managed to summarize every thought, every feeling, and the pure energy in the room.

 

And that gave Rey the final push, the final ounce of courage to do the very thing she had been thinking about all night; all week, all month. Fuck, the thing she had been thinking about for the past three years.

 

Her hands began to shake. Slowly, she moved forward, crawling the short distance between them. She was on all fours, her palms flat against the wooden floorboards. They were almost the same height now. What with Rey tilting her chin up and Ben ducking his head down, closer and closer and closer.

 

And then they were touching.

 

Their lips met.

 

They were a blur of motion. Teeth clanking. Mouths moving, their tongues in constant battle. His hands and his lips were _everywhere_ and Rey wasn’t sure if she was taking off his shirt or if Ben was doing that himself. But then his shirt was finally gone and his skin was exposed and she couldn’t drink in enough of him. And then soon her shirt (or was it actually his) was gone and her bra with it, leaving her skin exposed to the cool air, but Rey didn’t care. Because she was on fire. She felt like a phoenix, ready to burst into flames at any moment. He was the flint and she was the fuse and the friction was leading to nothing but pure combustion.

 

They were both standing on their knees now, her hands working at the belt buckle around his waist and then the fly of his pants. He was pushing and pulling and tugging her sweatpants and panties down all in one final, fatal swoop. And then he was naked and so was she, her breasts pressed against his chest and his fingers were moving along her body, starting at her clavicle, dipping down between her breasts, along her stomach, going down lower and lower and…

 

He touched her, his hand barely brushing over her clit and she moaned.

 

Rey was pushing him down, leading and guiding him to the floor. She didn’t care if she was being rough. She didn’t care if this was going too fast. Ben just kept _looking_ at her, like she was a meal and he was so hungry and she just wanted to feed him. She just wanted to give him all that she had to offer. She wanted to do this for herself, but she also wanted to do this for him. She wanted to make him forget. She wanted to take away his pain and the hurt. His mother had just died and-

 

No.

 

No this wasn’t like that. This wasn’t anything more than being drunk. Being drunk and getting laid. This couldn’t be about anything more; it couldn’t turn into anything more.

 

Pushing all thoughts aside, Rey looked down at Ben, naked and exposed beneath her. Her mouth opened, the tip of her tongue darting out, wetting the flesh of her lips. There was so much she wanted to do; so much she still wanted to say. But Rey stayed quiet. Her mind was screaming at her, the various voices sounding like Finn and Poe and Rose. Like Luke and Leia and even Han. All trying to be the voice of reason. All trying to be her conscience. Because why were they rushing into this? There was no need to rush. Reminding her that Rey and Ben always rushed.

 

They rushed into a relationship.

 

They rushed into moving in together.

 

They rushed into breaking up.

 

“Rey?” Ben moved to sit up, leaning back on his elbows. His brow was furrowed slightly, his gaze questioning. But she just shook her head in response. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to think.

 

Instead she looked down where her hips met his. She re-positioned herself, taking his hard length into her hand, stroking him slowly as she hovered above him, aligning him at her entrance. Already Rey was gritting her teeth in anticipation. It had been so long since she had felt anything more than a vibrator or her own hand. It had been so long since she had been with Ben. And he always felt so huge; felt like he was filling her to the brim, almost causing her to fall apart.

 

He was always breaking her apart.

 

Glancing up at Ben’s face, she saw he was still staring at her; still looking at her like he was about to speak. Before he could, she sunk down slowly onto him. They both let out a collective moan as Rey continued to lower herself onto him, until it was impossible to go any further.

 

Then their bodies began to move.

 

The room began to feel warm. Beads of sweat formed on her skin, and there was nothing but the sound of her hips slapping into his mixed with her pants and his groans. They were loud. Rey was sure her neighbors could hear. But she didn’t care. Because it had been _so_ long and she was with Ben and this was the first thing that actually felt good. It was the first thing that made Rey feel like she wasn’t numb. Like he was yanking her out of neutral and into drive.

 

He wasn’t going to last long. She could tell by the way he kept leaning his head back, his eyelids fluttering shut and his teeth sinking into his lip. He kept saying her name, chanting over and over again like it was some sort of spell, an enchantment or even a prayer.

 

Rey just moved harder, lifting herself up, almost off of him entirely. And then she slammed her body back down. She moved faster, trying to feel more, trying to chase this feeling of being together, of being one.

 

A startled gasp left her chest, as she felt his fingers return to the space between her legs, and he began to rub small circles over her clit. Now it was her turn to utter a groan, her eyes slipping shut as it became harder to focus; harder to think. Her body went into autopilot, as she continued to ride Ben. She was getting so close; was teetering right on the edge and if he just moved a little more, if he just pressed a little harder and then-

 

Ben came. His body was tensing, and his muscles began to spasm as Rey felt him come inside of her. She could feel the way his cock twitched; could feel her own muscles tightening around him as her orgasm washed over her shortly after.

 

Her body leaned forward, her palms resting on the floor, both hands framing the side of his head. Her hair down, framing her face like a curtain. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and she slept with Ben. Abruptly she sat up, as the realization began to dawn on her mind.

 

Rey had _just fucked_ Ben.

 

Ben, whose mother just died.

 

She scrambled to her feet.

 

Ben who she broke up with years ago.

 

Rey began to look for her clothes.

 

Ben who she was supposed to be getting over. Who she was supposed to be moving on from.

 

Why couldn’t she find her shirt? Why couldn’t she find her panties or her sweatpants?

 

Ben who she wasn’t supposed to love anymore.

 

Because loving him _hurt_ and wasn’t being in love supposed to be easy? Wasn’t it supposed to feel nice and effortless and _good_?

 

Suddenly, the reality and the guilt of the entire day came crashing down. Everything hit Rey at once. She felt blindsided. She felt _too much_.

 

And so the dam broke. The river rushed out. And Rey began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was perhaps the hardest chapter to write. I got stuck on trying to capture the frenzy of their emotions and the fact neither Ben or Rey were thinking straight, whether drunk or sober. 
> 
> I want to thank all my fellow Reylos in the writing den who sprinted with me while I tried to get this chapter done. Their feedback helped fuel this along.
> 
> Again, any and all feedback/kudos/comments are greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoyed chapter two, and I cannot wait for you guys to read the third and final chapter, which is from Ben's POV.


	3. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t go to her when he was broken. Because there was no going back to that relationship or that chapter of his life, There was no way they could just magically pick up where they left off, no matter how good it felt to share that one night, to laugh and see her smile; to just talk to her and drink and have a good time. Rey always made feel Ben better. Rey always fixed everything. She was the cure to all his ailments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. i had about a third of this written up, just sitting on my computer for MONTHS. i knew roughly how i wanted to end it, but at the same time didn't know how to get there. then real life got in the way, i got ideas for other fics that took precedence and then this sat on the back burner for ages.
> 
> but then i finally decided i need to finish it, and so i did. IT'S MY FIRST MULTICHAPTER FIC THAT I'VE COMPLETED! WOO HOO!
> 
> i'm happy with the ending, and i would be lying if i wasn't already thinking of how i want an epilogue to go. however i'm not making any promises since i've got other WIP's on my plate right now. i'm sure i'll re-visit this fic at some point though.
> 
> thank you so much to everyone that read this, commented, or left a kudo. i really appreciate it and i would love feedback! this was the first fic i wrote when being properly involved in the star wars/reylo fandom, and it just feels good to be writing and a part of something.

ELEVEN MONTHS LATER

Her hair was cut again.

It was short. Shorter than Ben had ever seen before. It was different, It made her look different. More professional. Mature. But not in a matronly way. More… polished. Like she had her shit together. Like she knew what she wanted out of life and she wasn’t afraid to get it.

But he liked it. It suited her. She looked good.

Then again, Rey always looked good. At least to Ben.

It had been nearly a year. A year since his mother had died. A year since he had seen her last.

_”Rey? What’s going on? Are you- are you okay? You need to tell me what’s going on.”_

He had begged. He had pleaded. She hadn’t stopped crying, and just shaking her head and pushing. She kept pushing him away. Which he hadn’t understood. Because she had been the one to come to him. She had been the one who had taken him back to her place. She had been the one to suggest the drinks. The one who made him laugh and smile and have a good. The one who had made him forget.

She had been the one who kissed him.

She had been the one who had taken off his shirt.

She had been the one who had breathlessly moaned his name as she came.

She had been the one who had told him to leave. Told him that this had been a mistake. That she had been stupid and foolish and the whole thing was just… a mess.

_”Everything you touch, it hurts. It breaks. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”_

So Ben had left.

He went home. He poured himself a healthy amount of scotch and then ended up throwing the glass at the wall. He trashed his apartment. He threw books off the shelves, swiped items off of every surface in his sight. And then he broke down, the tears falling hard and fast as he slumped to the floor in the middle of the mess.

Ben mourned.

He mourned the loss of his mother.

He mourned the loss of his father and his uncle.

And he mourned the loss of Rey.

And then… and then Ben begun to rebuild his life.

His mother had left behind some money. He had been able to repay his advance from First Order for his next book. He had been able to pay all the lawyers and the fees for breaking a contract. And through some miraculous judicial miracle, Ben had been able to walk away from First Order and Snoke relatively unscathed. He had to move. He had to sell his apartment and settle for something a little smaller and in a less desirable neighborhood, but it had been worth it. After all, what was a park side view worth if you were living your own personal hell and couldn’t enjoy it?

Ben had taken a break from writing. Even after almost draining his inheritance to buy his freedom, Ben had enough left over that the bills would be covered and he didn’t have to live off of ramen. He joined a gym. He began to box and lift weights and run. Running was good. It cleared his head. It let him just do something productive without having to think.

Because when he did think his thoughts went to her.

It was always her.

But he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t go to her when he was broken. Because there was no going back to that relationship or that chapter of his life, There was no way they could just magically pick up where they left off, no matter how good it felt to share that one night, to laugh and see her smile; to just talk to her and drink and have a good time. Rey always made feel Ben better. Rey always fixed everything. She was the cure to all his ailments.

Unfortunately, he was the cause of hers.

No, Ben had to work on himself first and then maybe… Just maybe when he didn’t feel _so_ much and hurt even more, there would be a chance. Maybe. Ben could do nothing but just have hope.

 

Ben didn’t remember who reached out first; who had initiated the call, if it was himself or Poe _”How does this work? Who talks first? Do you talk first? Do I talk first?”_ but it… helped. In a way, being friends (were they friends? Could you call them friends? Poe would probably refer to Ben as a friend. Ben not so much) with Poe helped him feel closer to Leia. They had wasted so much time. _He_ had wasted so much time, focused on trivial things like pride and legacies. He could have been there for his mother. She could have been there for him and instead…

But he couldn’t change the past. You could only learn from it. You could learn from your mistakes and the mistakes of the generations before you. But there was no changing it. So why dwell on something that you can’t change?

So Ben was trying to learn from it. It started out with just grabbing a very awkward cup of coffee with Poe. And then they began to get breakfast together, at this diner that was halfway between his place and where Poe lived.

They mostly talked about Leia. Sometimes they talked about work. Or well, Poe’s work seeing that Ben was currently unemployed. They talked about the weather and sports and current events. Really, they talked about anything just not Rey. That was the unspoken agreement. The only rule to these semi-regular brunch dates.

So despite the fact they got together at least twice a month and despite the fact that Poe would call Ben a friend, he was still surprised when the wedding invitation came in the mail, addressed to him.

Poe had mentioned the engagement. He had told Ben the whole story of how he had proposed to Finn on the rooftop of the building they lived in at sunset. It was things that Disney films were made of. Finn and Poe were getting their happily ever after and Ben was happy for them. He truly was.

But when the invitation arrived, the fancy gold calligraphy on the envelope, Ben was still surprised. Because even though he was sort of friends with Poe, Finn was Rey’s _best_ friend. They were practically family. And there was no way in hell that Rey would miss this wedding.

Meaning that Ben really shouldn’t go.

Because he and Poe were not that close. And he and Finn had never seen eye to eye. Maybe they had just extended the invitation to be polite. Maybe they knew that Ben would check off ‘regretfully declines’ before putting the RSVP in the mail.

The invitation sat on his kitchen counter for weeks. It just sat there, staring him down anytime he grabbed a drink or something to eat. And then Poe was texting him on at least four separate times, reminding him that the RSVP’s were due a week ago, and then about how the caterer really needed the final headcount. So Ben picked up the invitation, pen in hand. The tip of the pen hovered over the second check box, the one that would symbolize his decline.

And then… and then Ben checked yes.

Because Rey had to know that he and Poe were friends. Rey had to know that he had received an invitation and that there was a chance he would be at this wedding. Because Poe told Finn everything and Finn told Rey even more. Just because her name remained mum at brunch with Poe didn’t mean the same courtesy was extended between Poe and Finn and then Finn and Rey.

Because Poe could of just not invited him. Ben had hardly ever been the type to get upset over the lack of invites to social events. He wouldn’t of even thought anything of it.

But despite all the work Ben had been doing on himself; despite how hard he had been trying to move on, the temptation was there. Because it had been six months since they had seen each other. And time helped to heal all wounds and Ben just… Ben missed her, and he didn’t even need to talk to her. She didn’t even need to see him.

Except she did.

Of course she did.

Ben was seated in the back. He slipped in at the last possible moment, right before the ceremony was about to start. Everything was taking place in this renovated warehouse in Brooklyn. Lots of exposed brick and beams. Industrial meets rustic. And plenty of strung up lights, all with their very own edison bulb. The whole wedding screamed ‘trendy’ and ‘hipster’. The last Ben had heard, Poe and Finn weren’t even having a normal wedding cake. No, they were having a doughnut bar, whatever the fuck that was.

But Ben had hardly been able to take in all the greenery and ‘original’ wooden floors (why Poe felt the need to include that in the directions to the venue was beyond Ben) because he caught sight of her.

He was yet again, a complete and utter goner.

In fact, he was so enthralled with just seeing her, that Ben didn’t once think about the fact that this was a two way street; that Rey could see him just as well. Even as he sat in the back row. Even as she walked down the aisle, holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands and wearing a black suit that fit her perfectly. She looked good. Happy. Healthy. Good.

Or maybe it was the fact that Ben was seeing her at a wedding opposed to a funeral.

But even as his eyes remained glued to her tall frame, Ben wasn’t expecting the jolt of electricity that surged through his body the moment that his gaze met hers.

She was standing at the front, right behind Finn. More music was playing and Ben was no longer paying attention to the wedding. He couldn’t of told you who even got married. There was music and laughing and tears. There were vows made and the two grooms happily sealed their union with a kiss.

Ben missed it all.

Because all he could do was look at her.

And Rey was looking right back at him.

He was in the very last row, seated behind probably dozens of people, most shorter than him but some taller. Yet Ben knew that she was looking at him. He could feel it. He could sense it. After all, they had always been connected.

As the recessional was played, Poe and Finn made their way back down the aisle, both grinning madly and holding one another’s hands. They were followed by Rey and Rose and Kaydel, along with a couple other friends that Ben didn’t know. Then everyone was standing and moving. Ben began to move, following the flock of sheep as they all made their way back downstairs, into the designated cocktail hour.

There were two mixed drinks. A ‘Berry Happy Together’ and the other a ‘Mint to Be’.

Ben ordered a beer.

He was on his third by the time he saw Rey again. She was standing with Rose, both of them laughing and their cheeks flushed.

She looked so fucking happy.

It almost hurt.

And then he lost her again. A gaggle of people came between Ben and Rey, and by the time he had pushed his way around them, she was gone.

He almost left right then and there.

Because clearly Rey had her shit together. Clearly Rey was doing well. And despite how messy her apartment was, or how disorganized her desk could be at work, Rey always had her life together. She had been through hell; had been dealt a rough hand from day one, and yet Rey always perservered. She always kept moving; kept pushing and working hard and it paid off.

What did Ben do?

He had been given two loving parents. His mom was… no, had been loaded. He had been dropped into a family business that was directly connected to something that Ben loved to do.

And what did he do with it all?

Ben had pushed it away.

He had pushed away his father and his mother. He had spat in the face of Leia and Luke’s legacy; the business they had built from the ground up. Ben had it all, and instead of trying to put differences aside, instead of being patient and communicating, Ben had been the one to pour gasoline on it all, light a match and just walk away, not even bothering to look back and see what he had done.

Ben had ran away.

What was he even doing here? He was barely friends with Poe. Finn couldn’t stand him. And Rey? Rey had her life together. And for once, Ben didn’t want to screw it up.

Because he was still screwed up.

He still had so much work today.

Quitting First Order didn’t fix things.

Not writing about his grandfather, not defending his grandfather anymore, that didn’t fix things.

Just because he hadn’t punched his fist through drywall or smashed glass or broken a mirror… that didn’t fix anything.

That didn’t make everything better.

That didn’t fix that night.

”Rey what’s wrong?! Why are you crying? Rey- Rey!”

“Just go. I shouldn’t of- we shouldn’t of- we don’t belong together, Ben. We’re not good for each other. This was a mistake.”

Ben should leave. He had come to the ceremony. That was the important part, right? That was the part that counted? Poe was going to be preoccupied; to busy to even notice if Ben had come or what time he left.

But he didn’t leave.

Instead he once more played the part of a sheep, following the flock back up the main staircase and into the same room that had previously housed the ceremony. Except now all the chairs and the altar and the aisles were gone. Instead there were half a dozen long, wooden tables, now adorned with greens, and plates and candles. Everyone began to drift off, finding a seat, their glasses in hands. There was soft but still upbeat music playing in the background. A song that Ben had heard on the radio hundreds of times, but couldn’t tell you what it was called or who sang it.

He stood there, not sure where to go or who to sit with.

It was like the first day of school all over again, standing in the cafeteria and not knowing your place.

Why wasn’t there a seating chart? Weren’t weddings supposed to have seating charts?

“Finn and Poe wanted it to be casual. They didn’t want to deal with figuring out who was going to go where and sit with who.”

Her voice startled him. Because it was as if she had read his mind. She was always good at answering his questions before they were asked.

Well, the easy ones at least.

Slowly Ben turned around and for a moment he said nothing. He just stared.

She was wearing a suit; a jacket and sleek black pants, but not a button up shirt underneath. And there were two large star… buttons? Broaches? They were hooked to the center of the suit jacket, right were the front of it ended in a V. And she had to be wearing heels. Because she was taller than usual, and despite the fact that Rey had changed in many ways over the last twelve months, he refused to believe that she would grow anymore. Because she was already the perfect height for him. Because Ben didn’t want to give up the way her head nestled right under his chin when they embraced. And because Ben didn’t want to think that no longer would their bodies line up together just right when they laid together naked on his bed. Because Ben wanted the best for Rey but he didn’t want her to change too much.

He didn’t want to bump into her on the street someday and not recognize her at first. He didn’t want her to become a stranger with a familiar laugh. He didn’t want her to become a distant memory. He didn’t want to begin to forget.

Because he already was.

And it scared him.

Rey was not nothing. Not to him.

He took a slow sip from his beer. Because he needed a moment to think; to process. He should say something funny. He should make a sarcastic comment about how he was in high school all over again and he didn’t know where the popular table was.

Instead he ended up with, “You cut your hair.”

It was deja vu all over again. They were living in a never ending groundhogs day. The only difference was that instead of death, this time they were celebrating life.

What was that saying? Third time was the charm?

Ben was looking out towards the reception space, but out of the corner of his eye he continued to watch Rey.

He watched the way her hand instinctively came up to her shoulders, as if she was reaching to touch hair that wasn’t there anymore; that was a phantom. A ghost. And Ben watched as she moved to slide her hand over her shoulder and up along the side of her neck, coming to the hair that ended there.

She looked uncertain. As if she was doubting herself.

Ben didn’t want her to doubt herself.

“It looks nice.” The words came out too fast. She was going to think that it was a lie; that he was trying to cover something. Again he took another sip of his beer, swallowing thickly as he turned his body towards hers. “You look nice.”

And she did.

“So do you.”

He was wearing the same suit that he worn to Luke’s funeral. And his mom’s.

Ben hadn’t even realized it. He hadn’t thought twice about it. Because he had a shit ton of suits. Definitely more than he needed. Especially now. But he had just picked one at random. It was black. He had a handful of black suits, almost entirely identical. And yet it was this one that he picked out. It was this one he put on.

Maybe it was bad luck; maybe it was considering a bad omen to wear a funeral suit to a wedding.

But this suit also always brought him to Rey.

And no matter how things turned out, that wasn’t bad at all.

He cleared his throat, taking another drink from his glass, looking out at the different guests as they milled around, talking and drinking and celebrating the love of Poe and Finn.

Ben wondered if he would ever have this.

Did he even want this?

Maybe the growing old with someone. Maybe to not be alone anymore. To have someone that would take him for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.

He had been alone for so long. No, that wasn’t entirely right. Ben had chosen to be alone for so long and now… now he was tired of the solitude. He was tired of pushing people away. He was tired of keeping this heavy, heavy armor on, one that was so hard to penetrate that Ben wasn’t sure he could even break through.

Ben was tired of being alone.

But he would be.

Because he couldn’t have her.

“You going to pick a seat?” Rey tilted her head in the direction of the tables.

He shook his head in response. “I was actually going to head out.” Ben tried to sound casual; tried to keep his voice nonchalant. Because he didn’t want any follow up questions. He didn’t want her to ask why. Because Ben didn’t have a good excuse. He didn’t have a lie he could tell her, at least not one that she would believe.

But Rey fell silent and Ben turned to look at her again. He studied her face, watching the way she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I just-” Ben began again before he stopped himself. Because he just what? He wanted to talk to her? Wanted to see her again? That the whole reason he was here was because of her? Sure, Ben was happy for Poe. He was happy that he had a healthy, successful relationship and found a person he wanted to commit to in front of all their family and friends.

But Poe and Finn weren’t the reason that Ben had showered and shaved; the reason he had put on a suit (this damn funeral suit) and took the longest fucking train ride to Brooklyn of all places.

Rey was.

Rey always was the force behind his actions.

And to think, for the longest time, Ben thought it had been Snoke.

Maybe at the beginning it had been Snoke. Maybe at the beginning he had begun to hear his mentor and boss’s voice in the back of his mind, like a corrupted conscience more than even his own. Because it was Snoke that Ben thought about before he wrote. What would Snoke think? What would he say? That Ben was weak. That Ben was struggling; was floundering like a fish out of water, spineless and useless without discipline and direction.

But then Rey’s voice had appeared too.

Her bright, clear words began to flood his mind, offering him another opinion, another point of view. One that was firm but sweet. One that helped point Ben in the right direction without ripping him apart.

He wasn’t sure when he had stopped listening to the first voice in his head, in favor of the second.

But it had been too late.

Too little, too late. The story of Ben’s life.

He exhaled heavily through his nose, now trying to just find his own voice in his own head. “I just-” Ben began to start again, but what was he going to say? What could he say?

“I’m happy for you. You- you look good, Rey. You seem happy. You just- you deserve it, alright? I just want you to be happy.”

It wasn’t exactly eloquent. He stumbled over his words, and even after he managed to get something out, it still wasn’t all that Ben wanted to say.

So he was surprised when he saw her nodding her head, her gaze dropping down the floor. Her cheeks were tinged pink now, a warm blush beginning to spread over her speckled skin. He was even more surprised at the words that she spoke next.

“You seem good too.”

So, Ben decided to stay for the reception.

* * *

Ben was drunk.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this drunk. Actually no, that wasn’t correct. He did know. It had been the last time he had been with Rey. In her apartment. The last time that they had…

Ben didn’t want to think about that right now.

No, right now he felt good. Really good. Like the room was spinning and colorful lights were flashing and everyone was singing along to ‘Mr. Brightside’ and ‘Don’t Stop Believing’.

And Rey was there and she was luminous. She was radiating heat and happiness and it made Ben’s heart feel so full and yet so empty at the same time.

Because he wasn’t the one to give her this.

He wasn’t the one to make her this way.

She had did it herself.

Which really, wasn’t a surprise.

Because Rey was smart. She was independent and resourceful. She never had anyone there to hold her hand, to help her along the way. She never had another choice but to do things herself. So it would make sense that she wouldn’t have someone swooping in to save her. Because Rey didn’t need to be saved. Because Rey could save herself.

And yet Ben still wanted to be there. He still wanted to provide support and a shoulder to lean on and be able to help her pick up the pieces; to dust her off before she went on her way.

He at least wanted to be part of her life.

But he wasn’t. He hadn’t been. Not for a very long time.

And that was a very hard pill to swallow.

Which was why maybe Ben was doing his best to forget that. So he drank just one more beer. And then another. And he even had one of those ‘mint to be’ drinks which was just a wedding name for a mojito. And then out came the tray of jello shots because what classy hipster wedding didn’t have jello shots except these weren’t in those little disposable containers. No because hipster’s cared about the environment. These jello shots were inside the rinds of different citruses, like little alcohol lemon and lime wedges.

Ben ate six of them.

And then three more.

He was practically floating.

And fuck, it felt so good.

Even when Ben found himself being dragged out onto the dance floor. Even when he began to bounce on the balls of his feet, moving his arms and his head and his hips all in an attempt, albeit a bad one, to dance. And he was even having fun when he found himself sandwiched between Poe and Finn, or when Rose grabbed his hand and pulled him into the conga line. And Ben even found himself singing along, his deep baritone rumbling through the chorus of drunken singing.

And then he would catch sight of her, either standing with her friends and laughing or dancing in the middle of a crowd, or even just standing there, on the outskirts of the dance floor, leaning against the exposed brick wall and Ben would swear on his life that she was looking at him; that she was watching his every move, just as he had watched her during the ceremony.

All Ben wanted to do was go to her.

But that was another recipe for a disaster. She had it made it very clear, through tears and sobs, that she needed space. Because being with Ben hurt. Rey had said that. Those exact words. Ben hurt. And Ben didn’t want to hurt her. Even if it hurt him instead.

However, like magnets they found themselves drawn to each other. Ben wasn’t sure if he ended up seeking her or if she was the one who found him.

Ben had stepped outside for some air. Sweat glistened over his skin. His whole body felt hot, even after Ben had abandoned his suit jacket and his tie somewhere during the evening. The sleeves of his dress shirt were pushed up towards his elbows and he kept pushing his hair back and away from his face. Someone had given Ben glow sticks. Glow sticks, something that Ben had not seen or touched or had anything to do with since he had probably been eight. Now he had one around his neck and one around his wrist and Ben wasn’t sure if he was at a rave or a wedding.

Now it just felt good to breath. The beat of the music was still pounding in his ears, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darker light outside.

He was standing on top of a stairwell. It was probably an emergency exit or a service entrance. Ben hadn’t been paying much attention. Instead he had just thought of one thing and one thing alone and that was fresh air. Space. And now that he was out there, looking and listening to the sights and sounds of the city around him, all Ben wanted was a cigarette.

Well, a cigarette and Rey.

He could live off of her and nicotine.

But they were both things that he was trying to give up.

The fresh air was sobering. It took the edge off. Just enough that the world seemed to stop spinning and Ben didn’t feel like he was going to puke. Hunched over, his forearms rested against the metal guardrail as he continued to take in slow breaths. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give for a cigarette right about now.

“Are you avoiding me?”

He hadn’t heard the door open. She snuck up on him. Again. How was she doing that? Ben thought he was doing a good job of keeping tabs; of keeping track of her from the corner of his eye.

The words got stuck in his throat. He just looked forward again, giving a small shake of his head. His heart was still racing, but now Ben didn’t know why. Because of her? Because of the dancing and drinking? Because he hadn’t stopped moving for the last… what? Two hours?

“Ben.” He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at her.

“I should go.” Now he stood. He didn’t realize how small the space was. It was just a little square slab of concrete. They had been in closer quarters before. They had lived together for fuck’s sake, and yet this little platform of a stoop was too much. She was too close and she was wearing that dress and the whole thing was going to set Ben off. He was going to spiral. He was too drunk for this and at the same time not drunk enough. And she was so close and he could smell her. Her scent was overpowering, the sweet coconut mixed with something more sharp and spicy. Something unique to Rey and Rey alone.

“Ben.” She repeated his name and this time her tone sounded different. Hurt. But how could she be hurt? Because Ben had stayed away. Ben had listened and done what she had asked.

* * * 

They had fought again.

After the funeral and getting caught in the rain; the booze and the sex.

Rey had cried and Ben had lashed out.

Because that was what Ben did.

And maybe it was justified. Because his mother had just died and he was feeling alone, like he was nothing. Except that Rey was nothing too. She had no one, an orphan just like him without any family. She was as much of a ‘nothing’ as Ben except that she wasn’t nothing. Not to him.

So Ben had told her this. He had let all the words and feelings just fall out of his mouth as she sat there, trying to throw her clothes back on, the tears pouring down her face and her body shaking with sobs..  
Ben should have done something.

He should of reached out his hand. He should of tried to comfort her; to hold her and let her cry and tell her that it was going to be alright.

Because Rey had lost someone too.

Leia had been more than a boss. Even isolated, shunned Ben knew that.

But instead he found himself getting angry. He found a fire beginning to bubble, deep inside of his chest and there was no quenching the flames.

He began to yell. In all honesty, Ben doesn’t even remember about what. Maybe it was nothing but drunken nonsense. Maybe it was all the thoughts and feelings he had kept bottled up for the past three years. Because, fuck, how did it become three years? How did all that time passed and they were still standing on opposite ends of the world, perhaps even further apart than they had started?

It wasn’t supposed to be like that.

When Rey had left their apartment the night they had broken up, Ben thought that she would be back. In fact he was certain that she would be. Because this was home. And because he was her family. For better or for worse, they had to work through this. Because how did a job affect their relationship? How did having someone who understood him; who understood his goals and his wants and his needs for this book, how could that be a bad thing?

Snoke was going to change Ben’s life.

For the better.

Little did he know it was actually the beginning of the end.

Rey had to come back. It was as simple as that. One hour went by. Then two. Then six. Then eight. Then it was the next day but that was alright because she was probably just cooling off. She was probably with Finn and Rose. And then she had probably gone into work, because a stupid fight wasn’t worth wasting a perfectly good personal day.

And then two days passed.

By the third day, there was a knock on the door.

This is her, Ben thought. She clearly had forgotten her keys. She clearly was ready to patch up things; to let the argument settle in the dust and to move on with their lives.

Ben tried not to look smug. He tried to not to look happy. Not because he thought he had won the argument. No. Because Ben had missed Rey. He had missed the way she always left her dishes on the counter beside the sink. How she never put away the water pitcher after pouring herself a glass. The way she took over whatever room she was in, whether it was with books or blankets or loose papers scattered all about. He missed her mess and her smile and the way she just lit up a room. He missed the way her body felt at night, her front pressed up against her bag, her finger lightly tracing lines across his back, connecting the speckling of freckles and beauty marks.

Ben just missed her.

Because it hurt when she was gone.

It hurt when she wasn’t around.

And the pain went away the moment Rey came back.

Except it wasn’t Rey at the door.

It was Finn. And Rose. They had nothing but unfolded cardboard boxes in their hands and grim expressions on their face.

It felt like a punch to the gut. Because she wasn’t coming back. Ben knew right then and there. She couldn’t even face him to pack up her shit. She couldn’t even bother with a phone call or a fucking text message to let him know it was over.

Ben had no say.

Rey was quitting. She was walking away.

So Ben let her go.

He practically growled at her two friends, grabbing his coat and his keys as he pushed roughly past them. Because Ben couldn’t handle watching them pack up her things; pack up their things. In the home that they had shared.

Ben just began to walk. He walked and he walked and he walked, just wandering aimlessly around the city without any set direction in mind. He walked until his feet began to ache, his shoes feeling stiff. And then Ben walked some more.

He didn’t come home until after work the next day.

He never moved things to her side of the closet, even though it would of made picking out his clothes easier.

He never put anything in the empty dresser drawers that she had left behind.  
And he never changed his number or the locks on the doors. Ben never moved. Even as he began to make more money. Even as the little reminders of her were still there. Because sometimes Ben found a stray sock, one of her colorful Harry Potter ones, mixed in with his entirely black sock drawer. Or when he was cleaning out the pantry and he found a half eaten box of Lucky Charms shoved to the back. Or when he was just beginning to wake up; when Ben was just on the edge of sleep and reality was forgotten, when he reached out for her, expecting to feel her warm body right next to his, only for his hand to touch nothing but the empty, cold space beside him.

No, Ben didn’t really change anything.

Because she could still come back.

* * * 

“I need to go.”

The words came out more forceful than he expected. Rey stepped back, as if she had been physically shoved aside. Ben finally turned to look at her, watching the way her brow furrowed and the corner’s of her lips began to turn down.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Ben was supposed to slip in and slip out. He was supposed to wish the happy newlyweds good luck and mazel tov and all that cliché shit. And then Ben was supposed to get his ass out of there.

Because he didn’t want to hurt Rey anymore,

Because he didn’t want to screw up her life or complicate it.

And part of him wanted to stop hurting too.

“Ben-”

“Stop.” He held up a hand, shaking his head. No. She didn’t get to do this. She didn’t get to cry, to tell him all the bad things he had ever done to her and how much he hurt her. She didn’t get to let him shoulder all the fault and all the blame and now just stand there in that god damn dress at this wedding and just say his name over and over and over again.

A shaky breath exhaled from his nostrils. Ben closed his eyes, his hand still held up, as if he could just somehow freeze time; that he could stop things from going further in any direction.

“I need to go Rey.” His voice was hoarse; a low whisper that embarrassingly cracked on her name. “This was-” His lips pursed together as Ben gave another small shake of his head, his black hair falling down towards his eyes.

He should of gotten a haircut.

Breathing out through his slightly parted lips, he dropped his arm back down to his side. Slowly his fingers curled inwards into a fist. It was just for a moment. A single second where Ben allowed his body to feel tense and taught and mad. Mad at Rey. Mad at himself. Mad at the situation and the hand that life had dealt him. Mad at what he had done with his life, the actions he had taken and choices he had made.

And then Ben did his best to let those feelings pass. To allow them to float way, like a twig drifting down stream.

Because Ben couldn’t be mad to do this. He couldn’t feel anger and hate when he had to get these words out.

She touched his hand.

It was the slightest of contact. Her fingertips barely brushed along the tips of his fingers but it was enough.

Ben froze. His body went rigid and he found himself unable to move or unable to speak. He was completely and utterly frozen, as if she was medusa and she had rendered him into stone with nothing but the smallest of touches.

He still loved her.

Ben knew that he still loved her. That he would always love her. But Ben also thought that he had locked those feelings away. That he had managed to put them inside of a box; had taken that box and put it away, up on a shelf. Because it was still a nice box to have around. It was nice to sometimes take that box off of that shelf and look into it. Sometimes Ben looked with happiness; a warm, comforting feeling enveloping his body like a blanket.

Other times, he gazed into that box with nothing but regret and remorse. He was bitter. Bitter that she hadn’t been able to stand by him. Bitter that he had chosen a fucking career and a stupid ass memoir instead of a life with her.

And sometimes Ben wished he could just throw that box away.

Because it would be easier.

Because it would hurt less.

Because maybe then he could move on, could find happiness or at least satisfaction with someone else.

Because maybe then he could go to a friend’s wedding without leaving early because it just hurt too much to see her.

Even when he was happy for her. Even when Ben wanted her to move on.

But then she was doing things like this and he was spiraling back down the rabbit hole.

Fuck, he was going to need to call his therapist and pay the ridiculous after hours fees.

Now she was speaking and Ben was just staring at her, his brain delayed to process the words coming from her lips.

“I’m glad you came. I’ve-” She hesitated, her teeth dipping into her bottom lip for just a moment. “It’s just good to see you.” Rey finished with a smile. It was tight but still genuine and warm.

Ben was still rendered frozen. Finally he opened his mouth, but the words got stuck in his throat. So he just stood there, struck entirely dumb and mute. She must of taken his silence as a finality to the conversation, if you could even call it that. Still, Ben just watched her go; watched her slowly turn and head back into the wedding. Where the music was blasting and multicolored lights were flashing and everyone was letting loose and having fun. Where you could just enjoy yourself without getting too lost in your head or caught up in your emotions. Where you could have fun, like normal people. Like people who didn’t habitually fuck up their own lives.

Where Rey belonged.

With her friends. Where her family was. Where she was meant to be.

Where Ben did not belong.

Ben went home and got drunk.

He drank until the room was spinning and he wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying or most likely doing a mix of both. He drank until he ran out of whiskey; ran out of gin and scotch and vodka and beer. He drank until he puked.

But he didn’t break anything. He didn’t punch a wall or throw his phone into the bathroom mirror. His fingers didn’t curl into fists once.

And that was progress. Right?

* * *

Ben woke up to his head pounding.

It sounded like someone was repeatedly rapping their knuckles against his skull.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Slowly he sat up. He was on the floor of his living room. His mouth felt dry; felt like cotton and his tongue kept sticking to his teeth. His stomach gave a lurch as Ben moved to stand, and suddenly sitting on the floor just seemed like a better idea, a smarter choice.

But the knocking sound was still echoing in his ears. Wincing, Ben raised his hands to his face, his fingers pressing into his flesh as he tried to rub the sound right out his mind.

Except…. Except it wasn’t coming from his head.

No that sound was real.

That sound was coming from the front door.

Fuck.

How long he had been passed out? Surely all night. But a look towards the window showed that it was still dark outside. The moon was high in the sky, and the city that never slept was still bustling as usual.

Now whoever was on the other side his door was becoming impatient, because the firm knocking had turned into down right pounding.

“I’m coming.” Ben yelled, his voice quavering just slightly. He needed water. He needed to eat or maybe puke again or just something. Because his stomach was as pissed as his head.

Grabbing onto the leather armchair, Ben used it was leverage as he tried to stand up. He took a breath; took a moment, trying to feel steady on his sea legs. Taking a step forward, his foot immediately made contact with a glass bottle, sending it rolling. The noise of the glass against the wood floor made Ben wince, the sound once again just being too loud. Everything right now was just so fucking loud and the pounding on his front door was growing in volume. In fact, Ben was surprised that it hadn’t just been knocked down.

“Just hold the fuck on!” Ben shouted, again his voice still sounding stiff and stale. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” The words were mumbled under his breath, like some sort of holy chant, as he tried to navigate his large feet through the remnants of his binge a few hours prior. Every single bottle from his liquor cabinet seemed to be sprawled across the floor of his apartment, along with a bag of tortilla chips, a loaf of bread, and pieces of Ben’s suit; his jacket and his belt and his pants, along with just one of his dress socks. The other was still half on his foot, half coming off.

Still trying to make his way to the door, Ben reached down, trying to pull the sock the rest of the way off. It was a risky move, one that caused him to stumble into his coffee table, causing a new stream of profanities to slip from his lips. And fuck that knocking. Did someone fucking die, or…

Ben didn’t allow himself to finish that thought.

There had already been enough funerals.

There had already been enough death.

Finally, the sock was removed from his foot (and had been tossed carelessly aside like it’s mate) and Ben was standing in front of his door. His skin felt flushed. He felt warm and Jesus, he was so thirsty, and whoever was on the other side of this god damn door better be important because…

Ben pulled open the door with a sharp yank. His brow was furrowed. A scowl was on his face and he opened his mouth to rip this person a new one because it was late and he was hungover and there was something called fucking patience and…

It was her.

Of course it was her.

It was always her.

Because the universe was cruel and unbalanced.

Because Ben had been a dick for so many years that karma was still trying to level the playing field; it was still trying to make him atone for his sins and serve penance for all the shit he had and hadn’t done.

Because that was just how Ben’s life worked.

He said nothing.

He needed another drink.

He turned, making his way over to the kitchen. She was talking. No, she was yelling at him, but Ben couldn’t hear any of it. His brain wasn’t processing anything, and instead all he could think about was how dry his tongue felt. How his teeth felt rough and chalky.

Gripping the handle to the faucet, Ben gave it a sharp turn. Cold water began to rush from the tap, and Ben didn’t even bother with a glass. He bent his head down, his mouth opening as he began to quickly drink water, as if he had just come home from a sprint in the dessert. And then, perhaps for good measure, he just shoved his whole head underneath the rushing flow of water. Because Ben had a pretty strong feeling that he needed to be sober for this conversation. Because it was her and she was here and the wedding…

Ben held his head under the stream of water longer than he should have.

The cold water felt like a jolt to his system.

It both felt refreshing and sharp; something to jerk him out of neutral but also caused his head to pound.

And then he abruptly stood up.

He flipped his soaking wet hair back, raising his hands to push the wet, matted black locks away from his face, ignoring the droplets of water that continued to fall down his cheeks and nose.

She was just staring at him. No, she was gaping at him, like he had suddenly grown a second head. Like he was a strange anomaly. Like she had never seen him before.

And maybe she hadn’t.

At least not like this.

So they continued to stand there, just looking at one another, completely frozen in time and unable to move. Because moving meant progress and it meant change. Moving meant that they would need to talk, and that things could get ugly again. There could be shouting and yelling and Ben could get angry and he was so tired of feeling mad. He was so tired of feeling as if he was at a constant spiral out of control; like a tornado with no direction or reason. Ben had already hurt her so much; had already been hurt so much and he didn’t know how to break the cycle. He didn’t know how to be around her without treating her as if she was made of thin glass, capable of cracking with the smallest amount of too much pressure. And he didn’t know how to treat her like iron either. Like a sturdy anvil that could take whatever he repeatedly threw at her; could take whatever Ben kept pounding and pushing and punching, thinking that she would never break. Because she was strong, and she was uncompromising and she was dependable.

She was always there for him until she wasn’t.

Ben didn’t know how to treat her like a person.

“You moved.” Rey spoke first. She began to step towards him, before she seemed to have second thoughts. She was only two, maybe three feet away but it might as well of been a lifetime. The space between them seemed to do nothing but grow.

Ben stayed quiet. Rey didn’t.

“You moved and you didn’t tell me?!” She was angry now. She was shaking her head, her arms still pressed against her sides, her fingers giving a slight twitch. “I showed up at the old place, and- and someone else answered the door. This tall woman with lilac hair and she just said how you haven’t lived there in like a year, and then I had to call Poe. I had to find out where you lived from Poe?! You just- you left and you didn’t tell me, Ben.”

“You left first.”

His voice was still hoarse. The words were hard to form, and he wasn’t sure if he was just hungover or still slightly drunk. A palm went to his face, trying to wipe away the excess water that was still dripping from his hair, down over his features.

Rey flinched as if she had been slapped.

“I just-” He watched as she exhaled, turning her head to the side, her jaw taught and clenched. She was still in that dress, and her hair was slicked back and her make up was slightly smudged. Was it raining outside? Had she been crying?

“You didn’t tell me.” Rey echoed, pausing before she went to carry on. Ben interrupted her.

“We don’ talk. We haven’t talked. You don’t tell me about your life, I don’t tell you about mine, remember? We’re not- We’ve been broken up. For three years now, Rey.”

Three years. They hadn’t been together for three years. Suddenly Ben felt like cold water had been doused down his back. But instead of feeling refreshed; instead of feeling like he was being woken up, that his thirst was being quenched, it felt like a hard dose of reality. Because it was true. They hadn’t been in each other’s lives for three years.

Three years.

That was such a long fucking time. So much had happened. So much had changed and yet… and yet so much still felt the same.

Suddenly the kitchen seemed small. The apartment seemed small. Fuck, the city… it all just seemed too small. She was so close. She was standing right there and they were alone.

Ben began to move. He went back to the living room, began to pick up the discarded bottles, one by one. He just held them in his arms, as if he was picking a bouquet of wild flowers.

Rey followed him.

He could feel her. Could sense her eyes on him as he moved, struggling to hold the bottles against his chest. He would bend over, going to add another to the collection only for one he was already holding to fall back down. It was a miracle that there wasn’t broken glass everywhere.

And then she was beside him. She was right there, her hand on his forearm and she was murmuring words, offering to help.

His body stiffened under her touch. Everything seemed to stop, but move fast, all at the same time.

“What are you doing here, Rey?”

What he wanted to ask, was why did you leave. What he wanted to ask was why did you send me away. What he wanted to ask was how did they end up like this; apart for longer than they were together, living out their lives practically like strangers.

Now it was her turn to be silent. Ben felt her fingers fall away; he could feel the way her body began to stiffen in the room, the air feeling tense.

“You left.” Her voice was quiet, and instantly Ben was turning on his heel, his brow coming together and retort on the tip of his tongue. But she was holding up her hand, her palm facing, silently asking him to stop before he even got started.

“The wedding. You left the wedding.” She clarified. “Poe mentioned you might be coming but I didn’t think you actually would.”

Ben took the empty bottles back into the kitchen, tossing them rather carelessly into the trash. Fuck recycling right now. He was processing it all. His brain still felt foggy; the vodka and the scotch and the rum must still be working it’s way through his system. Ben was half tempted to dunk his head under the faucet again. That had helped to wake him up, but he knew there was not enough cold water in the world to provide clarity for this situation.

“Poe and I are-” Ben began only to stop the moment he was getting started. He pursed his lips together. Poe and Ben were what? Friends? No. Rey and Poe were friends. “We eat food together sometimes.” It didn’t really label their relationship to a tee, but it was the closest thing that Ben could come up with.

Rey seemed to be processing too. She was nodding slowly, and it was only then that Ben noticed the empty bottles that she had followed him into the kitchen with. Fuck, how much did he drink? To be honest, Ben really didn’t want to know. He doubted the answer really didn’t matter, anyways.

Silently he took the bottles from her, tossing them into the trash before he turned towards the sink. He just stood there, his hands gripping the edge of the counter top, Ben took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly through his nose he continued to look straight ahead. There was a window above his sink. The city outside looked dark, for just a moment before he began to see the sign of activity; lights from other buildings and the cars that went passing by. The street lamps and the traffic signals. Ben didn’t even know what time it was, and looking outside of his apartment didn’t exactly help. He could make his best guess, but it was just that; a guess.

“I figured if I went, I would see you.”

There it was. The bandage that was being ripped off, without any hesitation or mercy.

When Rey didn’t say anything, Ben continued on.

“Look,” Slowly he turned around to face, though his eye couldn’t exactly meet hers. “I know last time- I know that I fucked up. I never should of gone back to your place. I shouldn’t of- I wasn’t coping well. I wasn’t handling everything and trying to process it-” Ben shook his head. He was getting off track. He was making excuses and rambling, both things that he swore he wouldn’t do. Not with Rey.

A noise of exasperation slipped from his lips, and Ben raised a hand, his fingers working their way through his damp locks. “I get it. You moved on. You have a life. We dated three years ago, and we both should be moving on. We both should be-”

What? Ben didn’t know. Because he didn’t want to see anyone else. He didn’t want Rey to see anyone else.

“I miss you too.” Rey spoke, her voice a soft whisper in the otherwise silent apartment.

Because even when Ben didn’t know what to say; even when Ben didn’t know how to say it, Rey did. Rey knew what Ben was trying and failing to explain. Rey knew. Even with seeing each other three times over the course of three years, she still knew him. She understood him, even when he didn’t understand herself.

“Rey-” His voice cracked as he took a step closer. He could see moisture on her face. Tears were beginning to form in the corner of her eye and she was laughing in almost a bitter way, moving to quickly swipe at her cheeks.

“I’m always crying around you. I’m so fucking tired of crying around you.”

Except these tears weren’t because of grief. These tears weren’t because of confusion or loss.

These tears were because they had finally done it; they had finally figured their shit out. They had finally found their way back. The pieces were being picked up. The seams were being stitched back together. They weren’t the same people that had argued and bickered three years ago. They weren’t the same people because of that fight three years ago.

Growth. You couldn’t have it without change. Even when the change hurt. Even when the change seemed wrong; seemed like the opposite of what you should be doing. Because sometimes you couldn’t move forward without taking three steps back.

“Rey-” Once again, it seemed the only thing Ben could do was say her name.

Except this time, that was enough.

He wasn’t sure who closed the distance between them. Ben was taking steps towards her, and she was striding towards him. And then they met in the middle and his hands were on her hips and her fingers were gripping his arms, holding onto him tightly as if she was afraid that he would drift away.

As if Ben would ever let her go. Not now. Not after all this.

There were still words that needed to be had. There were still conversations and explanations. And maybe they wouldn’t figure out all the answers in a night, or a week or even a year. Maybe they would never get those answers. But they still needed to talk. Ben needed to tell her about leaving First Order. About the writing he had been doing and how hard it had been to stay away. He needed to explain how he didn’t want to stay away but she seemed to be doing so good and.. and Rey would have things to say too. Because she had changed as much as she had stayed the same. Because she had had a life and a career and Ben wanted to hear about it; he wanted to know things about her again.

He didn’t want to be a stranger. Not anymore.

His head was bent towards her, and her chin was tipped up towards him. Slowly, they were being pulled together like some other worldly force; like a magnet, drawing the opposite ends closer and closer.

“Are you sure?” Ben thought he was only thinking it, before he heard his hoarse whisper out loud. Her eyes were fluttering; her eyelashes brushing against the tops of her freckled cheeks. Rey didn’t gave any response, her hands instead gripping his forearms tighter as their lips brushed.

The kiss was soft. It was hesitant, chaste and then they were both pulling back. Not fair, just enough to gauge one another; to make sure that this wasn’t another drunken mistake that would end in doors slamming and more tears being shed.

Ben moved a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth over her cheek, still feeling that this was just a dream; just his drunken imagination getting the best of him. But no, Rey was here and she was breathing and he could feel her flesh; could feel her breath and the strength of her pulse.

But instead of reality crashing down on them like a sudden summer thunderstorm, this was different. This was more gentle; like the slow arrival of a wave upon the sand. They didn’t need to rush, because this didn’t need to be one night. This wasn’t two grieving souls trying to find comfort and distraction; trying to ignore the hurt and pain and shock of losing someone you loved, by finding solace in the arms of another.

This was how they were meant to be.

She still tasted the same, Ben thought as he kissed her again. Their tongues were stroking one another, trying to remember how this worked; the mechanics of who went where and when. Ben’s fingers weaved through her hair, giving a sharp tug on the shorter locks, before his palm slid down along her neck, his fingers sprawled across her collarbone, his thumb light pressing into the base of her throat.

Her body was pressed tightly against his. She still had on those high heels, their height difference not as accented. Ben kept moving towards her, crowding his form against hers until he heard the dull thud, signaling the back of Rey’s legs against his kitchen cabinets. Ben was then lifting her; his hands gripping her hips as he felt her legs wrap around his waist.

She was moaning or maybe that was him. Everything felt good; felt right. Like Ben was finally where he belonged. Finally, he was doing something right.

And then their clothes were falling away. Ben didn’t even know how it was being done, nor did he care. Because all that mattered was that she was here. That her skin was against his. That he could feel her heart beat racing under the touch his palm. Or maybe that was his heart. Maybe that was the sound of his blood rushing through his veins echoing through his ears.

Neither of them spoke. No words were exchanged. The only sound in his apartment were the panting of their breath; the moans and murmurs that slipped from their lips as they continued to explore each other’s bodies.

Because it hadn’t been all that long since they had fucked. But at the same time it felt like an eternity. It felt like they were different people now. And maybe they were. Maybe they were entirely different humans. Ben knew he had changed. Ben knew he wasn’t the same guy that had let her walk away.

And Rey… somehow Ben knew that the suddenly shorter hair wasn’t the only thing different about her either.

He just wanted this to work. Fuck, he wanted this to work so badly. There wasn’t going to be a third try. This was one of those moments; those pivotal points in your life where you feel like your standing on a cliff. Where you know you only have two options, forward and back.

Ben didn’t want to step back.

Ben never wanted to go back.

Their tongues clashed, fighting for dominance; fighting to claim one another. Mine. Mine. Mine. Part of Ben wanted to pull away. Part of Ben wanted to scoop her up into his arms; to carry her to his bedroom, lay her down and relearn every part of her body. He wanted to lick her; wanted to start at her mouth and work his way down her neck, over her breasts, down the flat plane of her tan stomach and then take his time, tasting and savoring her between her legs.

He wanted to slow things down and he wanted to speed things up.

So much of her was exposed right now, naked and sandwiched between himself and the kitchen cabinet. His hands were shaking as they moved up and down her body, feeling the all the curves; all the smooth, freckled skin, the muscles and bones and flesh. His hands were trembling. He couldn’t get them to stay still, and ironically Ben couldn’t help but to think that this was why he wasn’t a neurosurgeon. Not because he fucking hated science. No because blood made him squirm. No because he couldn’t keep his sit together under pressure. He couldn’t hold his hands still, even when the moment warranted it the most.

They could have been standing in the kitchen for hours; for days. Ben felt like it wasn’t enough time. Ben felt like it was all going too fast; that she was slowly slipping away from him. He was trying to hold her there; was trying to keep her from leaving with every touch and kiss.

He was needy. He was hungry for her.

And she was also hungry for him.

A hand gripped her backside, kneading and massaging the soft flesh. Ben was certain that he was leaving marks on her skin, as he sucked at a pulse point on her neck. He wanted to mark her. Wanted her to think of him tomorrow, when inevitably she would end up back at her place while he stayed here.

Mine, mine, _mine_.

“Ben,” It was the first word either of them had spoken in ages. And it caused him to freeze. Caused his hands to stutter over her body. He faltered. Because Ben was still waiting for the other shoe to drop He was still waiting for her to say this wasn’t working; that this was just a tonight thing.

That it didn’t mean anything to her even when it meant the world to Ben.

But that didn’t came. She just moved her body; thrusting her hips forward against his, her legs beginning to open wider for him. Inviting him.

 

His hands encircled her waist, lifting her up onto the kitchen counter behind them. Instantly her legs were wrapping around his hips, drawing him in to her; drawing him closer and closer. Ben dipped his head down, his mouth circling one of her breasts, his tongue and teeth toying with her nipple, as he felt Rey arching against him. He sucked on her flesh, taking the whole breast into his mouth and then releasing it with a satisfying ‘pop’. The noise echoed in the kitchen. And then he was moving, paying the same amount attention to the other side of her chest, all while pretending to ignore his aching length between his legs. He was so hard for her. He could feel his dick twitch as she rubbed her wet opening against him; as he could feel her fingernails raking through his scalp and tugging on his hair.

He wanted to look at her when he entered. He wanted to look in her eyes the moment he slipped inside.

Straightening up, Ben pressed his mouth to Rey’s. He kissed her softly this time. Calmly. Lovingly. And then he pulled back just a breath away, his hands lining himself up at her entrance, before he slowly began to inch his way inside.

They groaned in unison.

It took a moment to adjust, but then his hips were slotted against hers and he bottomed out. Slowly Ben pulled back, almost the whole way out before he slammed in again. Rey swore. Ben hissed. The pace began to increase. The sound of slapping skin soon drowned out any other noise they might be making. His hand dropped down between their joint bodies as he felt his climax rising. Ben wanted her to come first. He wanted to watch her; wanted to see the moment her eyes rolled back into as ecstasy took over.

Quickly he began to rub her clit; toying and teasing at the sensitive bud, all while hearing the way her breath hitched. Hearing the way her pitch increased as her moans became more frequent. He could feel her inner walls tightening around him. Her face gave everything away. The way her lips parted and her head tilted back and her eyes slipped shut.

And then Ben felt her climax rolling through her body and Ben felt his own release cascading through him. “Rey. Rey. Rey.” It was all he could do but to pant out her name, like a chant or a prayer. “Rey-”

Home. Ben felt as if he was finally home.

And as he pulled back; as he felt himself growing limp and he withdrew from inside her, Ben looked to her eyes. Ben stared at her, and Rey stared back and it clicked. Ben knew. That Rey was finally home too.

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a sad, crylo one shot of Ben and Rey at Luke's funeral and now it has morphed into more. As of right now, there's going to be three parts to this story. And don't worry! It might start off with funerals, but this is definitely going to have a HEA. I like angst, but I don't like leaving these two all sad and apart.
> 
> Also I might of listened to 'Burn' from the Hamilton soundtrack on repeat while writing this, so some inspiration (mostly the 'do what it takes to survive/legacy/icarus lines) came from that as well.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I appreciate any and all feedback/comments/kudos!


End file.
